Homunculus
by Red Roses2
Summary: AU Fletcher fell to his knees, the tears in his eyes breaking loose from their dams. Blood seeped through the plates of Al’s armor. “What did you do! What did you do to me!” Al screamed, unable to identify the dead body now sitting in his armor.
1. Chapter 1

Red Roses2: Exactly nine pages. For a first chapter, this is a record for me. Hopefully, this means that future chapters will eventually get to be about twice as long. It's how it worked for the now finished _Don't Hurt My Little Knight_. If any of you like yaoi, Elricest, and Alphonse vs. Alfons, then I suggest you check DHMLK out. If you don't like yaoi, I'm fairly certain this is the story for you. I don't have anything _planned_, mainly because this story is really just a tragedy. I prefer platonic relationships when it comes to the Trigham brothers.

Summary: Fletcher fell to his knees, the tears in his eyes breaking loose from their dams. Blood seeped through the plates of Al's armor. "What did you do? What did you do to me!?" Al screamed, unable to identify the dead body now sitting in his armor.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. It belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.

!#$%^&*()_+~

The sky shone with pink and yellow as Ed and Al trekked on the road into Xenotime. Al's armor creaked as he turned his head towards Ed, Ed starting to cough. The cough racked his small frame, the sound blaring like an elephant.

"Brother, are you all right?" Al asked.

Ed nodded, a grimace on his face.

"Let's just get to an inn or something."

Al's helmet creaked into a nod, and the two continued on. Slowly – for they paused every time Ed coughed – they came into town. Some kills stood in the distance, and the ground was hard and rocky. They kicked up dust with every footstep, but it wasn't a desolate town. On one hill sat a mansion, surrounded by an abundance of grass and trees. The rest of the town, however, looked just like a regular gold mining town.

As Ed stopped to cough once more, a scream shot through the air. The brothers looked in the direction of the scream. Deep in the steep mining ditch, stood a crowd of adults huddled around a tipped-over cart.

"Elysa!" cried one of the adults.

Even from up on the trail, Ed and Al could hear the sobs of a little girl. The brothers shared a look, nodded, and abandoned the road to help them.

"What happened?" Ed asked, his voice coming out rough.

"My daughter's trapped under the cart!"

The little girl whimpered. Ed furrowed his eyebrows in concentration, but another cough snuck up on him.

"Al, could you - ?" Ed managed, holding his arms close to his chest to keep his body from shuddering so much.

"Got it," Al said, clapping his hands together. He touched the cart, and it transmuted into a decorative statue, firmly stuck in the ground.

Ed gave Al a grateful smile as he got his cough under control.

"Elysa, are you all right?"

"I'm okay, Daddy."

"Thank you so much for saving my daughter!"

"Heh. It was nothing," said Al.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Al wasn't sure how they got roped into having a meal at Elysa's house, but it would have been rude to turn down their offer. And Ed really looked like he needed a place to rest.

Two plates full of food sat before Al and Ed. For the former, it was normal. But for the latter –

"Aren't you hungry, Brother? You haven't eaten anything since we left Aquroya."

Ed shook his head and rested his chin on his palm.

"So you're brothers?" Elysa asked.

Ed nodded, staring at the salt shaker.

"And you two are alchemists, right?"

"Yes," Al said. "Brother's even a state alchemist."

The family oohed and ahhed together. Al couldn't help but giggle.

Ed looked like he was having difficulty staying awake.

"Maybe you could help Mugiar with the Philosopher's Stone!" said one of the men.

Ed managed to look up with a slightly curious expression.

"Philosopher's Stone?" Ed muttered.

"We can put a good word in for you two. What were your names again?"

Excitement filled Al's soul. Maybe this was their chance! Maybe they could get their bodies back!

"I'm Alphonse Elric, and my brother is Edward Elric - ," A coughing fit struck Ed. "Brother?"

Ed held up a hand – as though he were trying to tell Al that he was okay – and with his other hand, he covered his mouth. He shook, gasped, wheezed, and coughed some more.

The faces of the civilians went from surprised, angry, and pitying in a matter of seconds. Elysa went to the sink to fetch Ed a glass of water. Once Ed stopped coughing, she handed it to him.

"Thank you," Ed rasped, pressing the glass to his lips. His eyelids drooped, and his grip on the glass was precarious.

Elysa looked at Al, finding herself unable to say it to Ed. "The Elric brothers are already working with Mugiar. Why would you tell such a lie?"

"Huh?" Al said.

Ed looked at her through a haze of exhaustion.

"I'm not entirely sure what it was you just said, but is there an inn near by? And when does the nearest pharmacy op - ?" Ed covered his mouth and coughed, this time more gently. Once it ceased, he smiled, embarrassed. "Sorry about the cough. It wasn't this bad a few days ago."

"There's no inn, but my uncle Belsio has plenty of room." Elysa suggested.

"Is that really okay?" Al asked. Ed nodded absentmindedly, then he fell sideways. Al scrambled to catch him. "Brother!"

Al watched Ed's chest move up and down. The younger brother sighed.

The doctor in Aquroya said it was just a cold. But what if he was wrong? What if Ed had caught a flu? Al had never taken care of a sick person in his armor before. And the last time he had taken care of an ill Ed, Izumi-sensei had been there to tell him what to do. What if Ed needed a wet towel on his forehead? What if Ed had a fever-induced nightmare? What if he needed blankets? What if - ?

"You two can stay here, tonight," Elysa's father said, sympathy shining in his eyes.

~!#$%^&*()_+

The next morning, Al stared at the water glass set aside on the bedside table for Ed. He couldn't be sure, but did this water have a red tint to it? He didn't ponder about it for very long. Ed groaned, and his eyes fluttered open. He shifted slightly, his golden eyes landing on Al. A small smile graced his lips.

"Morn - ," and a cough interjected.

"Do you still have the prescription you got in Aquroya?"

Ed moaned something, tried to sit up, but he winced, and Al immediately made him lie back down. Ed didn't object.

"That's okay. I'll find it, Ed."

Ed nodded, snuggled back into the covers, and closed his eyes. Al rummaged through Ed's suitcase as quietly as he could.

Ed had two suitcases: the one with his clothes, fresh underwear, hair brush, hair ties, toothbrush, toiletries, small books, and random suvoniers for Winry; the other Al wasn't allowed to open. Al assumed it was full of military documents and clues to the Philosopher's Stone, and maybe a precious book or two. Al knew Ed would never put the prescription in the suitcase he wasn't allowed to open, but part of him wanted to check anyway. He stalled for a moment and glanced at Ed, back to sleep and trusting Al to bring medicine soon. Guilt crept into Al's soul as he turned his back on the forbidden suitcase. He couldn't betray his brother's trust like that. Ed told him almost everything. There must be a _very_ good reason for not letting him look in it.

It if was military documents, did that mean Ed didn't trust him enough to not lose them? If so, what could possibly be _that_ important that it couldn't sit in Mustang's desk instead?

Or . . . maybe Ed finally decided to start acting like a real teenager and bought porn when he wasn't looking and just wanted to protect Al's poor virgin eyes? Al nodded, happy with that conclusion. Ed deserved to wind down some, and he had overheard Havoc say that sexual release of some sort was great for that.

It just went to show that Al had no hormones when a fourteen-year-old boy turns down the prospect of naked women with big breasts (or maybe it was muscular men – Ed didn't show signs of being interested in either gender and yet he blushed at seemingly the most randomest of moments, like Havoc patting his shoulder or Hawkeye giving him a small smile.)

Either way, Al explored the rather uninteresting suitcase for the prescription.

After what felt like forever – but what probably was just ten minutes – Al hummed thoughtfully, the suitcase's entire contents scattered around him.

"Where could it be?"

"Where's what?" asked Elysa. Al's armor creaked as he glanced at her. The girl held a fresh glass of water.

"Brother's prescription. I can't seem to find it."

Elysa took the red-tinted water and replaced it with fresh water.

"Maybe he doesn't need it. We can look at the generic stuff when Daddy and I go for my medicine."

"Huh? You need medicine?"

Elysa nodded. "I have a bad cough, too. Not as bad as his, though . . ."

They both gazed at Ed for a few moments. Ed groaned in his sleep, his cheeks shining.

~!#$%^&*()_+

The pharmacy was littered with coughing patients. Al scanned the dingy room. Mold grew between the windows, and he could barely see through them. The floorboards squeaked under his feet. And what that sound termites? He fancied that he might just be able to smell damp wood, but it was probably his imagination. He couldn't smell in his armored body.

"Why are there so many people?" Al asked. Elysa's father ignored his question.

"Thank you," he said as the old woman handed him Elysa's medicine.

"And what may I do for you, young man?"

"Uh, my brother needs medicine for a cough. I think he has a fever, too."

He might have imagined it, but everyone in the room tensed.

"Does he have a prescription?" the old woman asked.

"We lost it," Al admitted.

The only woman hummed thoughtfully. She peered into the back room.

"I'm afraid I'll have to order the generic stuff. What's your brother's name? I'll need it to label it."

"Edward Elric."

Everyone froze for a moment, then glared at him. Al leaned backwards slightly.

"What is it?" Al said.

The old woman's glare intensified, and Elysa's dad sighed.

"I'm sorry about him. If it wasn't for his brother's condition, we would have run them out already." Elysa's dad apologized. "The boy really is sick, though. Can barely keep his eyes open."

"What are you apologizing for?" Al asked. "What did I do?"

Elysa's dad looked at him straight in the eye – and glared hate into his soul. Al faltered.

"Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, and his brother, Alphonse Elric, are already working for Mugiar. You filthy liar." He turned his eyes away from Al. "To be honest, I'm willing to bet your brother lets you get away with it _only_ because he's too out of it to notice."

Al bowed his head, the idea of two imposters running around in his head.

~!#$%^&*()_+

"Imposters, huh?" Ed wheezed, lowering the glass of water from his lips. His face scrunched up in disgust. "Why does this water taste so bad?"

"Do you want me to find something else?"

Ed shook his head and set the glass back on the bedside table.

"They're the ones working on the Philosopher's Stone, right?"

"Yes," Al said.

Ed pulled the covers off and touched it his feet onto the floor. Al stood up, his arms outstretched.

"Brother? What are you - ?"

Ed slowly slipped his coat on, grimacing at every significant move he made.

"We're going to confront them. At least learn why. Maybe call Mustang."

Al gasped.

"Ed?"

His brother would never willingly ask Colonel Mustang for anything. He knew they'd end up owing him something, and Ed hated being in debt.

Ed swayed and stumbled, grabbing hold of the doorframe. A small groan passed through his lips.

Al chased after Ed, Ed managing not to fall down the stairs.

"Ed! We can't confront them! What if they hurt you?"

Elysa and her parents looked up as the two brothers walked past.

"We need to find out if they really made a Philosopher's Stone. Find out how they made it. See if - ," Ed coughed again, his body trembling.

"You can't go like this!"

"Can too."

The elder stumbled, but reached the front door.

"Just – very . . . slowly," Ed admitted, tripping over himself.

Al watched him go, then caught up with him. Elysa stared out the window, her eyes following them.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Darkness covered the land, and stars twinkled high above them. The wind blew gently, rubbing the tree branches together. Ed covered his mouth, his cheeks puffed with air. HE gestured at the mansion all. Al sighed, clapped his hands, touched the wall, and created a hole. The two brothers walked through it, and Al transmuted the wall back. Ed gasped for air, and a coughing fit attacked. He tried to muffle the sound, but he only succeeded in making small trumpet sounds. His eyes wide, his body shaking, his automail hand grasping at his chest, Ed looked positively terrified.

"Who's there?" demanded a commanding voice.

Ed's coughing worsened.

A door opened, light poured into the room – which Al now realized was a private library – and two figures stood in the doorway. One was tall, his shoulders thrown back and his head held high. The other was significantly shorter – almost as short as Ed – cowering behind the taller one.

"Who are you?" said the taller one, the owner of that strong voice.

Al hesitated, glancing at Ed. Ed still coughed, his eyes screwed shut, as though in pain.

"Uh, we – we're - !" Al didn't know what to do, what to say. Ed couldn't concentrate on his alchemy like this. And he didn't want Ed to get hurt! He knew this was a bad idea. He _knew _it! Why did he always let Ed hurt himself like this? This was just like when they tried to resurrect Mom – except now - !

Ed reigned in his coughing temporarily.

"We're the _real_ Elric brothers," Ed rasped. "Care to tell us why you're using our names?"

The taller one narrowed his eyes. The shorter faltered.

"No, we don't," the taller said, walking into the room. Now that the light wasn't bearing down on the taller's back, Al could see he was blond, blue-eyed, and wearing a white shirt and suspenders. His bangs fell in front of his right eye, and a dangerous look refracted in his eyes. "Actually, we'd rather you just go away."

Ed shook his head, then winced. He grabbed his head and groaned.

"Are – are you ill?" the shorter asked, also stepping into the room. He was also blond, and wore suspenders, and blue-eyed, but he wore a strange green hat and Al could see that he trembled – in fear?

Ed gave him a look.

"What was the tip-off?"

Another coughing fit interrupted him. The shorter imposter frowned.

"Look, we're not here to fight. Just to talk. We want to know abut the Philosopher's Stone."

Ed's eyelids drooped as he spoke, and he leaned on a bookcase to keep himself from falling over.

"We don't feel like sharing," the taller said. "So go home."

Ed looked at him hard –or as hard as he could manage with his cheeks shining red.

"Identity theft is a serious offense. I can have the military arrest you. Unless you tell us how you're making it and how you've progressed."

The taller smirked.

"Or I could just kill you. Yo're in no position to protect yourself in any way. All you've done is made yourself a target."

The shorter imposter sucked in his breath. Al moved to stand in front of Ed.

"You'll never hurt my brother," Al said, putting his guard up.

The taller imposter's smirk widened.

"Little brother, why don't you get the guards?" he said.

Al faltered and looked back at Ed. Ed sighed.

"Fine. We'll leave." Ed coughed again. "But we'll be back."

The taller imposter's smirk turned into a grin.

"Thought so."

~!#$%^&*()_+

Ed lay on the bed, asleep, his fever much worse. Al paced back and forth in the kitchen, back and forth, back and forth. Elysa, her parents, and her uncle Belsio watched him pace.

"I knew we shouldn't have gone! I knew we shouldn't have! Now we can't do anything about it or they'll hurt Ed! What are we going to do? We can't leave with him so ill. But what if they try something?" Al went on and on like this for hors. What if, what if, what if, it's all my fault, my fault, my fault. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He didn't stop pacing until Belsio clamped a hand on his shoulder. Al's helmet creaked as he turned it to look at him.

"Concentrate on helping Ed get better. I called the military a few minutes ago and told them the identity mix-up. They'll be here in a few days. Meantime, we'll work on getting some fluids into your brother." Belsio smiled at him. Al bowed his head. "Come on. Let's bring Ed some of this lemonade."

Al nodded. "Okay."

Belsio handed Al a plate of buttlered and salted spaghetti noodles, in case Ed was hungry, and Belsio himself carried the tall glass of lemonade. They climbed the stairs, Al falling into his former line of thinking. What if, what if, what if. And it would all be his fault.

Belsio opened the door.

"Ed? We've brought - ," Belsio dropped the glass. It shattered, the lemonade seeping through the leather of his shoes.

The door swung wide open – and Ed was no where in sight.


	2. Chapter 2

Red Roses2: A little over eleven pages, yay!

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. It belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.

!#$%^&*()_+~

Rain poured down in sheets. Colonel Roy Mustang groaned as he stepped out of the train car. First Lieutenant Hawkeye, Second Lieutenant Havoc, and Lieutenant Colonel Hughes filed out behind him, Hawkeye opening an umbrella.

"Here, sir," she said, holding it out. Mustang accepted the cover it gave and looked at Hughes.

"You're sure the call was from Xenotime?"

"Yep," Hughes replied. "I even checked the records in Aquroya to make sure the boys did travel here."

Mustang looked out at the town below them, at the single green hill with a mansion sitting atop it, at the now-muddy shut-down gold mines, at the darkened houses.

"According to that Belsio guy," Havoc said, "Ed and Al are staying in a house close to the pharmacy." Havoc motioned to take a cigarette out, but he scowled as he remembered the rain.

"Then let's go," Mustang said, leading the way down the muddy path.

~!#$%^&*()_+

The door opened, and a frightened, worried little girl threw herself at Hughes's leg.

"You're here to help find Al's brother, right?" she cried, her tiny hands fisting Hughes's pant leg.

The military personnels' eyebrows shot up.

"_What_?" Hughes said. The four looked up from the girl as a man appeared in the doorway.

"Elysa, let the soldiers come in," said the man, pulling the girl back. The man moved out of the doorway, and the soldiers trooped in.

"I thought you called us about a couple of imposters and you didn't know who was who," Mustang said, scanning the room. Rain hit the windows, and drops of water kept dripping into a bucket on the floor.

"Yes, but a couple hours after we called, the one calling himself Edward Elric disappeared. Al is really worried."

"Where is Al?" Hawkeye asked.

Clang, clang, clang, and the suit of armor entered the room.

"Colonel! Lieutenant Colonel Hughes! Hawkeye and Havoc! Thank goodness! I've looked all over, and I can't find Ed, and he's really ill with a bad cough and fever and I'm really worried!"

"Calm down, Al," Hawkeye said, placing a hand on his bicep. "Freaking out isn't going to help."

Hughes rested his chin on his thumb, his index finger pressing against his lip.

"Well, now we know that the imposters are the ones in the mansion," said Hughes. "But that doesn't tell us where Ed is."

"You said he was sick?" Mustang asked. Al nodded. Mustang and Hughes shared a look. "How sick?"

"Couldn't walk straight or stay awake very long sick," Elysa said. She bit her lip. "He seemed to be getting worse the longer he stayed."

"So it's not possible he wandered off on his own," Hughes deadpanned.

"Not without anyone knowing," said Elysa's father.

Hughes locked eyes with Mustang, and they nodded.

"Hawkeye and I will look here for evidence. You and Havoc go confront the imposters," Hughes said.

"Right. Let's go, Havoc."

Mustang took the umbrella from Hawkeye, and he and Havoc trekked back into the downpour.

~!#$%^&*()_+

_Flash_! Hawkeye took the photo the camera produced and waved it, the picture appearing in place of a gray square. Hughes knelt next to the bed, humming thoughtfully.

"Hawkeye, come look at this."

She peered over his shoulder. Her eyes widened.

"A shoe print?"

"It's too small to be Ed's, especially since it's a right shoe."

"I thought his automail was built to be the same size as his real foot."

Hughes shook his head.

"Winry probably meant it to be, but it's a few centimeters longer. It's also wider. The military supplies him with custom made shoes because of it." Hughes took the camera from Hawkeye and snapped a picture. He handed it back to her and touched the print. Bringing his fingers to his face, he squinted at it the blood red hue. "What is this?"

"Blood?"

"No. Not thick enough." He sniffed his fingers. "Not wine, either." Hughes looked over his shoulder at Hawkeye. "Go find out if they'd mind if we tore this piece of carpet up for evidence."

"Yes, sir."

Hawkeye crossed the room, and her retreating footsteps echoed up the staircase. Hughes narrowed his eyes at the footprint. Judging from the size, the owner of this print shouldn't have been able to carry Ed. . . . Even a grown man would have had difficulty lifting Ed what with his automail. His arm alone gave Ed five or so extra pounds. When assessments came around, Ed almost broke the scales every time.

Hawkeye came back, closing the door behind her.

"We have permission."

"Good." Hughes unsheathed a knife and dug into the carpet. "Because I was going to have to do it anyway."

~!#$%^&*()_+

Bong! Bong! Bong!

Havoc raised an eyebrow at the mansion.

"That's . . . ominous." Havoc said.

Mustang nodded.

"Get your gun out."

"Right ahead of you." Chi-chok. Mustang smirked. Havoc pointed the barrel at the air, and they waited for the door to open.

The front door opened a crack, and bullets bombarded them.

Mustang snapped his fingers, creating a fire wall between them. Havoc pressed himself against Mustang's back, a bullet grazing his cheek.

"Remind me to thank Hawkeye for the umbrella," Mustang chuckled. Havoc smirked. "Imposters of Edward and Alphonse Elric! We know you're here! So come on out!"

Bang! And the flames died.

Havoc sighed. "They closed the door."

"What kind of gun do you think that was?" Mustang asked.

"Hawkeye's the expert, but it's not one I've ever seen."

Mustang frowned.

Let's regroup with Hughes and Hawkeye."

Havoc nodded and put his gun back into its holster.

~!#$%^&*()_+

The shorter imposter poked his head into the lab. The taller one and a fat, gray-haired man darted this way and that, grabbing everything and putting it into boxes.

"Brother?" the shorter imposter said. The taller one spared a short glance at him.

"Fletcher, get everything together. The military's here."

Fletcher gasped. "Wh-what?"

"The real ones probably called them. Mugiar and I have the research covered. You get our stuff packed, okay?"

"Um, right."

Fletcher stumbled away from the door and hurried down the hall, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Hughes, Hawkeye, and Al studied the evidence. The footprint and pictures of the window sill. In the pictures were close-ups of the window sill, scuffed up and covered in a plant not native to the area – just looking at the town from afar was enough to confirm that.

"Al, tell me if this makes sense," Hughes said. He pointed at the footprint. "Someone of at least short stature, if not a child, crept into Ed's room using a vine, examined the area, maybe tried to pick Ed up himself, realized he couldn't do it, used alchemy to make the vine lift him through the window, and somehow carted Ed off."

Al nodded. "That makes sense. But who would do that and why?"

Hughes sighed. "That's what I can't figure out. It might be the imposters, but I can't think of a motive." Hughes ran a hand through his hair.

"What if they wanted to kill him?" Hawkeye asked. Hughes shook his head.

"They could have used the plant to strangle him. Maybe they wanted a hostage for when we showed up?"

The front door banged open, and Mustang and Havoc walked in, Mustang shaking the umbrella. Havoc took out a cigarette and stuffed it between his lips.

"How was it?" Hawkeye asked.

"They shot at us," Havoc said. "We're going to need a plan."

"What about you?" Mustang asked.

"Our main suspects are the imposters, but we won't know for sure until we find out whether or not one of them specializes in botanic alchemy."

"So what now?" Hawkeye said.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Al ran at the door, threw his shoulder into it, and rammed it open. The mansion door hit the wall, the echo traveling down the hall. Only the patter of rain filled the eerie silence. The soldiers walked in after him, Mustang with his gloves, Havoc and Hawkeye with their guns, and Hughes with his knives.

"Hello?" Mustang called out.

"Anybody here?" Havoc added.

Hughes furrowed his eyebrows. The lights flickered dimly . . . and the scent of blood hung in the air.

The group walked down the hall, peeking into every room they passed. No one.

"Elric imposters? Mugiar? Anybody?" Havoc called.

No response.

Hawkeye stepped in front of a door. As it creaked open, she whipped around and pointed her gun right between the eyes of a young man.

The taller imposters stepped back and held up his hands. His breathing was erratic, and fear shone in his eyes. The front of his shirt was splattered with blood.

"Who are you?" Hawkeye demanded.

The young man swallowed hard.

"R-Russell Trigham. I – I work here. But . . . ." He stumbled out of the room he emerged from. He pointed inside. Hawkeye peered in, and her eyes widened at the sight. In the small amount of light the room still possessed, there lay the dead body of an older male, a black sword shoved right through his chest and sticking out the back. A puddle of blood grew around the corpse. "Mugiar . . . my employer. He – he tried to kill me. I didn't – I didn't mean to do it. He gave me no . . . ." Russell's eyes widened as he gasped. "Fletcher!" He started to run down the hall, but Al grabbed his arms. "FLETCHER!"

"Where's my brother?" Al shouted but Russell didn't pay him any mind.

"FLETCHER! WHERE ARE YOU? _FLETCHER_!"

Mustang pulled Russell out of Al's grip and forced him to look at him.

"Who is Fletcher?" Mustang interrogated.

"My little brother! FLETCHER!"

"Why have you two been pretending to be the Elric brothers?"

Tears sprung to Russell's eyes.

"I needed a damn good reason for Mugiar to hire me. Saying I was the Fullmetal Alchemist was my only option. Fletcher didn't want to lie. But we both wanted to carry on Dad's research."

"What research was that?"

Russell shook his head.

"We have to find Fletcher! What if Mugiar got one of his guards to hurt him? He can't fight for himself – he doesn't know how!"

Mustang sighed, realizing they'd get nothing more out of him. Right then.

"Okay. We'll find your brother. Just answer one more question."

Russell focused his eyes on Mustang instead of the dark hall behind him. Mustang looked back at him, hard.

"Did you kidnap Edward Elric?"

He took a moment to process the question, then Russell shook his head.

"I haven't seen him since he broke in a couple days ago. He was sick as a dog, but tried to confront us anyway."

Mustang locked eyes with Hughes and nodded. He then looked back at Russell.

"All right. Let's find Fletcher."

Russell relaxed somewhat, and the group searched the entire building. It felt like they searched for hours, Russell and Al shouting for their respective brothers. They searched every room, every hall, every closet, every staircase. Every single one of those places was empty, empty, empty, empty. Not a single person seemed to be left in the building.

Until Russell led them to a secret compartment.

Russell threw back the concealed door, revealing a staircase and a cloth bag.

"What?" Havoc said, accompanied by Hughes's and Al's "Huh?"

"Where's it lead?" Hawkeye asked.

Russell picked up the cloth bag, pulled out air-filter masks, and tossed one to each of them, slipping one on himself.

"To the fountain of Red Water we work with," Russell muttered absentmindedly, and he traveled down the stairs. Mustang's eyes widened, and he hesitated to follow. Al hurried behind Russell, yelling for Ed all the way. Hughes and Havoc kept close behind him. Hawkeye stepped on the top step and looked back at Mustang, waiting. Mustang narrowed his eyes and hurried after them.

"FLETCHER!"

"EDWARD!"

Down, down they went, the air becoming denser and heavy with red vapor. Hughes gasped as he recognized it. This color – it was the same color as the footprint! But what did that mean? Did that mean this Fletcher kidnapped Ed? Was Russell faking his shock? Hughes doubted it, but the story kept making no sense.

"EDWARD!"

"FLETCHER!"

The sound of rushing water met their ears like a waterfall breaking from a dam, and the stairs ended on a ledge. Russell ran along the ledge with expertise, and he left Al and the others behind.

"FLETCHER!"

They followed Russell's screams as they walked as though on a tightrope.

"Don't fall in the water," Mustang said, his voice reverberating against the walls. "It'll poison you, starting with eating away at your skin."

Havoc gulped.

Finally, they reached the point where the ledge widened. Hughes, Havoc, Mustang and Hawkeye all sighed in relief. It took them a moment to realize Russell had stopped yelling.

Through the haze of red vapor, they could see Russell's back, his frame stock still. They stepped next to him and beheld the garish sight before him.

Fletcher sat huddled, his arms holding onto something wrapped in a bloodstained white cloth. His eyes wide in horror, but his voice strangely silent. He didn't look up or acknowledge them in any way. He merely stared at the transmutation circle he sat in.

"Fletcher?" Russell whispered.

Slowly, the younger Trigham looked up, tears sparkling in his eyes.

"Are you okay?"

Fletcher moved one leg, then the other, and steadily brought himself to his full height. He gripped the bloodstained white cloth tighter. A wretched, pained gasp escaped it. Everyone's eyes widened. Al gasped as well. Why was that sound familiar?

"A – Alphonse?" Fletcher said, his voice small, timid. Numb.

Al faltered.

"What?"

Fletcher stepped towards Al, tightening his hold on the bundle. That horrid sound came from it again. Al stepped back from him.

". . . Take your helmet off." Fletcher said.

Al repeated himself, but more alarmed.

"Take your helmet off. I – I promised . . . your brother . . . ."

Al sucked in breath he didn't need.

"My brother? Where is he!?"

Fletcher's face tightened, as did his grip, and the bundle made that _sound_ again.

"_Take the helmet off!_"

The kid did seem to be in some state of shock. Maybe he really did know where Ed was! Al, encouraged by the chance to know what happened to Ed, actually did as Fletcher said without a second thought.

"Alphonse!" Mustang scolded, surprise creeping into his tone.

Russell stumbled backwards, gasping and pointing at Al.

"Where – where's your body!?" Russell demanded – but Fletcher didn't react at all.

It was like he had expected it.

Hughes watched Fletcher, drawn to the ever-growing mystery that was pouring in around them. What was he doing? Did he really know where Ed was? Was he the one who kidnapped him? What had he wanted with Ed? Or was he trying to help Ed? After all, they didn't know how many people were working down here. Maybe there were other, older alchemists working with Mugiar, too. The biggest mystery, however, was _what the hell was in the bundle_?

Fletcher stepped closer to Al, until he stood right in front of him.

"Kneel down."

Al hesitated.

"If I do, will you tell me where Ed is?"

Fletcher made a strangled noise and jerked his head in a way that technically could be categorized as a nod but not really recognized as one. Al took that as a good-enough answer and knelt down.

Hawkeye cocked her gun.

Fletcher climbed up Al, hoisting the bundle up ahead of him.

"What are you doing?" Al asked, nervousness crawling into him. Fletcher didn't answer. He reached the top of Al's armor – the hole the absence of helmet made – and began to stuff the bundle in Al.

The bundle shrieked in pain, the noise unearthly, alien.

Al stood up, unsettling Fletcher, who grabbed onto the spikes on Al's armor for support.

"What are you doing!?"

Havoc and Hawkeye lifted their guns and aimed at Fletcher. Russell shook with fear.

"Don't hurt him!" Russell begged.

"What's he doing?" Havoc demanded, sending a small glare at Russell. Russell's mouth turned into a thin line, quivering in terror.

"I – I don't know!"

Fletcher struggled to hold on and push the bundle in, but Al's flailing about actually made it slip in much easier. It screeched as it hit the bottom of Al's torso with a thud. Fletcher purposely cut his fingers on one of Al's spikes, managed to lean into Al's armor, and pressed his fingers onto the transmutation circle – on Ed's dried blood.

"_Don't touch that_!"

Hawkeye and Havoc prepped the trigger, but much too late. Light shone from the bowels of Al's armor, the bundle's screams echoing through the cavern.

When it died down, Al threw Fletcher across the cavern, letting loose screams of his own. Fletcher fell to his knees, the tears in his eyes finally breaking loose from their dams. Blood seeped through the plates of Al's armor.

"What did you do!? What did you do to me!?" Al screamed, unable to identify the dead body now sitting in his armor.

Fletcher sobbed quietly, incapable of tearing his eyes away from the blood staining Al's armor. Hawkeye and Havoc lowered their guns. None of the onlookers knew what to do. Al ripped his breast plate off, and out fell the bundle. The white cloth fell off its face – and what a face it was. Ashen skin, violet eyes, sunken skin that wasn't all there. It looked just like the mistake Ed and Al had created when they tried to bring back their mother . . . except for one thing.

Its hair was golden blond, that beautiful shade that Al only knew his brother to possess.

All the feeling disappeared from Al. A feeling of unreality overcame him. No. It _couldn't_ be.

"Where's Ed?" Al said. Not a question, but not quite a demand. More like a prayer.

Fletcher moved his eyes to the transmutation circle imprinted inside Al's armor – it a new, brighter shade of red. Fletcher reached out a trembling hand, and pointed at the corpse at Al's feet.

"No." He wouldn't believe it. "Where is he?"

Fletcher pointed again.

"Where is he!?"

All he did was point at the corpse.

"WHERE IS MY BROTHER!?"

Actual words caught in Fletcher's throat, but he choked them out, word by word.

"He's – dead – Alphonse."

No. _No._ No, no, no no no!

"_NO_!"

Al fell to his knees, finally taking a good look at the corpse. Hesitantly, he reached out and pulled the white cloth off it. Havoc made a strangling sound, and Hawkeye covered her mouth.

"Mother of God," Hughes gasped. Mustang's expression drew further in.

Al touched it, not believing what Fletcher or his senses told him. Not that he could really feel it, but touching a human body always gave him a sense that he _could_ feel. He ran his hand over the right arm, and metal crumbled between his fingers. He kept repeating the word "no" over and over and over again. He touched the left leg, and metal crumbled under his touch. No, no, no, no. He trailed his hand up to its face, not wanting to believe that it used to be his brother's.

"NO!" Al grabbed the body and tossed it across the cavern. It hit the Red Water with a resounding _SPLASH _and was swept away by the current. Hughes cursed under his breath and ran after it, Mustang chasing after him. "THAT'S NOT MY BROTHER! WHERE IS HE!? WHERE'S MY BROTHER!?"

Mustang snapped his fingers, and all of the Red Water evaporated. Hughes jumped down into the river bed and pulled the corpse out of it. He laid it down on the bank and took out his knife. Using it as a ruler, he pressed it against the bottom of its remaining foot. He then measured other parts of the body – that was recognizable as a body part, at least. He closed his eyes as he resheathed it.

"Roy," Hughes said. Mustang looked up from the corpse at him, dread burrowing in his heart. Hughes looked Mustang in the eye. "I know you thought of him like family but . . . . I'm sorry."

Mustang lowered his head, his fears confirmed.

"It really is Ed."


	3. Chapter 3

Red Roses2:

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. It belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.

!#$%^&*()_+~

Elysa cried into her father's shirt, her fingers grasping the white fabric as though it were a life line. Belsio gripped her shoulder, eyes heavy with sadness. Al sat on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest and sniffing sounds periodically echoing from his armor.

Outside, the sun shone down, the ground wet with the rain's aftermath. Birds chirped in mockery of their pain and plight. Fletcher and Russell sat beside each other on some crates, the four military officers standing before them. Havoc flicked his lighter open, hesitated for a moment, then lit his cigarette. Mustang gave him a look, and Havoc shrugged.

"I'll only use one today," he insisted. _In the boss's memory_ was left out, but Mustang felt it and wordlessly permitted it.

Fletcher hugged Ed's red coat to his chest and held Ed's pocket watch in his right hand, his knuckles turning white.

Hughes had no idea where to begin. Ed's death was so sudden. And it – it was bizarre. What the hell _happened_ in there? But years of working in the interrogation department had taught him that he can't just outright ask those questions, even though he so desperately wanted to. No. He'd have to work around to it. Especially with how this kid seemed pretty traumatized. So he started with an immediate question in his head.

"Why won't you give Al Ed's things?" Hughes said. "And why was Ed in your mansion?"

Fletcher bowed his head, his bangs falling in front of his eyes. He bit his lip, and his body tensed. They all waited for him to say something – even Russell. A whimper escaped his lips. Russell placed a hand on his shoulder. Fletcher looked up, his eyes moist.

"It's okay, Fletcher. You can tell us. . . . What _happened_?" Russell encouraged.

Fletcher swallowed hard and turned his eyes onto the military officers.

"I – I have to do what Ed told me to do first . . . before I explain anything."

"Hm?"

Fletcher drew a drop of blood his lip. It trailed down his chin and threatened to fall onto Ed's coat. Fletcher wiped it away and rubbed it off on his green suspenders.

"I promised to do it. It's only fair . . . since . . . ."

Mustang twitched, his index finger rubbing against his thumb. Hughes tensed.

"What is it he wanted you to do?" Hughes asked.

"I – I have to sign something. Brother, too." Russell's eyes widened. "A document. In a suitcase with a padlock."

"What _kind_ of document is it?" Mustang inquired. Fletcher bit his lip harder, but didn't respond. Mustang furrowed his eyebrows and grinded his teeth. Silence hung in the air for a while, then – "Havoc, go get the suitcase."

Havoc saluted the colonel and went into the house. Al and the residents looked up at him. They watched as he climbed the stairs, disappeared into the guest room.

"W-what's he - ?" Elysa muttered, and Havoc came back down, the suitcase Al wasn't allowed to open under his arm.

Al stood up.

"What are you doing with that!? It's _Brother's_!"

Havoc sighed through his cigarette.

"The kid won't talk until he's signed something that's in here." He held up the suitcase. He almost felt like Al was glaring at him, like there was a fire burning behind those slits the armor had for eyes.

"How would _he_ know what's in there? _I_ don't know what's in there!"

Havoc shrugged.

"He says Ed made him promise to sign something that's in there. I know just as much as you do." Havoc bit down on the cigarette. He knew how much pain the younger was in right now. To be perfectly honest, he was feeling some of it too. Ed may not have been the easiest person to get along with, but he was a loyal comrade, and good kid, and a pretty cool boss. He bit harder on the cigarette as he remembered when he first met the kid.

"_Fullmetal, this is Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc. He's one of my best subordinates. He'll be your driver to and from here and the Tucker residence from now on." _

"_I don't need a babysitter, Colonel!" _

"_True, but do you seriously plan on walking there?" _

_Ed scowled for a moment, then finally actually looked at Havoc and the car. Havoc raised an eyebrow at the momentary flash of hesitation and – mistrust? in the boy's eyes. It quickly went back to irritation as he looked back at Mustang. _

"_FINE. Have it your way. Colonel bastard." Had that been when the nickname started? Mustang looked startled enough for it to be. _

_Ed walked up to the car, and Havoc opened the passenger door. Ed stopped, surprised, and stared at Havoc with utmost confusion. Havoc smirked, his cigarette protesting at the pressure of his lips. _

"_You got nothin' to worry about, boss. I'll take good care of you." _

_A skeptical expression, but hey, he got in the car, didn't he? _

"Al, could you move out of the way? You're blocking the hall."

If anything, Al made himself bigger.

"Give me the trunk," Al said icily.

How could they _work_ with those two? Like they deserved leniency? Those two who had pretending to be his brother – who were stealing his brother's things! The coat was Ed's! It was red, Ed's favorite color, and had Izumi-sensei's symbol on the back! Only Ed would wear something like that! Ed with his garish sense of fashion. . . . Never again would Al jokingly complain about Ed's decorative alchemy. Never again would he apologize for Ed, with Ed honestly asking "what's wrong with it!?" Never again would he see Ed grin manically when he found something tacky that, for some reason that was beyond Al's understanding, his brother adored and would be insisting on wearing. And it was all their _fault_!

Havoc stepped back.

"Al, be reasonable. This is the only way that kid is going to tell us what happened. Don't you want to know what happened to Ed?"

Al faltered, and slowly he stepped down.

Of course he wanted to know what happened. He wanted to know exactly how those two hurt Ed, so he could pay them back tenfold. They were going to pay for taking his brother away from him. Ed was supposed to help him get his body back! He was supposed to help Ed get his limbs back! They were supposed to go back home to Risembool and see Winry smile again. He'd never see Ed smile again. _No one_ would see Ed smile again. And it was all those two's fault . . . !

What he didn't want to know was why Ed was treated like their mother was.

Havoc walked back outside and gave the suitcase to Hughes. Hughes rested it on his knees and examined the padlock. He raised an eyebrow.

"Damn . . . ."

Mustang looked at it, too, and frowned.

"He really didn't want anyone getting into it."

Panic sparked across Fletcher's face. Hawkeye and Havoc shared a look.

"I'm afraid I don't see how it's different from any other padlock," Hawkeye said.

Mustang ran a hand through his hair.

"It's simple, really. Ed used alchemy to make it impossible to open without its key. If we open it by force, the suitcase - "

"Goes up in flames," Hughes concluded. "Hell, we so much as touch it, and it shocks us."

"So how do we open it?" Hawkeye asked.

"Um." The officers looked at Fletcher. Gulping, Fletcher let go of the coat, stuck his hand down his shirt, and pulled out a silver key. Their eyes widened.

"How'd you get that?" Russell asked, voice soft and concerned.

"_When_'d you get that?" Al demanded, almost cutting Russell off. Al stepped into the sun – clang, clang, clang, clang, clang – glaring at Fletcher. "_How did you get that_?"

Fletcher leaned away from Al, trembling like a frightened animal. He swallowed hard, gathering his courage. . . . He could almost see the pain and anger flaring in Al's soul – almost see human eyes glaring at him. "F-From Ed . . . so I could open it . . . ."

Al stepped closer to the Trighams, but Hawkeye stood in front of him, and Russell shielded Fletcher from him.

"Intimidating him isn't helping, Alphonse," she said.

"He's taking all of Ed's things!" Al protested, his emotions reaching a level he never knew they could. It obscured the few senses he had left, and the memories of Ed ran around his head, the sounds and images and _god_ the smells and tastes and feelings this armored body denied him all swirling and swimming, and the fact of the matter was that he'd never be able to make _more_ of those memories with Ed because he was _dead_! "Why are you all on _his_ side!?"

"We're _not_ on his side! But we need to know what happened! And if Ed's last wish is whatever the hell he's doing, then so be it!" Mustang snapped, his dark eyes flaring with anger and pain. The same kind of pain that overflowed in Al. It was doubtful that the intensity was the same, but it was _there_, and that made it a little better. But only a little. Al faltered and Fletcher flinched; Hughes gripped Mustang's hand, and the colonel reigned himself in. But it _hurt_, damn it.

Ed and Mustang had had one of their stupid power-struggle arguments, where Mustang delighted in pissing Ed off and Ed made it way too easy on accident, last he saw him. It was almost always impossible to tell whether or not Ed was honestly upset or was just playing along for the sake of it, and now maybe he'd never know.

If anything, that thought made it feel worse.

Fletcher took the suitcase, inserted the key, twisted it, and the trunk snapped open.

In it was a thin bed of documents. Legal documents. All of them were embossed with the symbol of the Amestrian Army, and spoke in the eloquent words of the State. Gold lined the edges, and there was terminology that completely went over Fletcher's head, and blanks dared him to print his name into the sentences, as though they knew that he wasn't good enough for this. As if paper could potentially understand what they were signing off, what they were representing. As if they knew that Fletcher really didn't want to do this. He paled as he sifted through them all.

". . . . I thought he said there was only one. . . ."

Fletcher extracted a particular paper with gold and silver lining, read a couple of lines, and frowned. All he could really see was those sickly, golden eyes staring up at him, begging.

". . . I can't believe he wants us to sign all this."

Russell took a paper, read some of the print, and his eyes bulged.

"_Guardianship papers_!?"

Fletcher was the only one without a surprised reaction. All he did was nod. Al's armor starting trembling – why was anyone's guess. The emotional turmoil? Stress on his soul? Could souls even feel stress?

Bet Ed would know.

"Looks like it's also papers that would sign over any property he had, make his bank accounts ours, and essentially give one of us a free ticket to becoming an actual state alchemist. . . . On one condition."

Russell looked at his little brother, confusion evident in his face.

"What condition?"

Fletcher put the paper down and looked Russell in the eye – the first time he had really done such a thing. Because this was _important_. This may be the most important thing that they've ever done.

Something about that was frightening.

"We put all our efforts into taking care of and giving Alphonse a body. Hence the guardianship papers."

Russell dropped the paper in his hand, they cascading back into the trunk.

_What!?_

"We can't take care of him! Hell, he and I are the same age!"

Fletcher looked at Russell dejectedly. Why couldn't he under_stand_?

"I have to, Brother. I already refreshed his transmutation circle." The air tensed, and all eyes were on Fletcher. Al held his breath – or at least he felt like he was. "Now that Ed's d- gone, and that I've renewed the circle, I'm the only one who can fix his armor if anything happens to him. . . . I have to do this, Russell. I promised him. I promised Ed that Al wouldn't be alone." Tears threatened to fall, painful memories gathering in his head. "You don't have to, Brother. But I don't want to be alone, either."

Not alone like Ed. Dying in that bed – the bed Fletcher had been sleeping in ever since they starting lying about who they were – in a town that wasn't home. Without his brother there, to say goodbye. He never got to say goodbye. He never - ! Fletcher covered his eyes, trying not to cry.

Russell sighed, took a pen out of the suitcase, uncapped it, and wrote his real full name on the papers. Fletcher's signature met it, right next to it moments later. Fletcher felt like a weight had been pressed onto his shoulders, and yet another weight had been lifted, but he couldn't tell which weight weighed more. Russell felt like he was just thrown into a whirlpool and had no idea when he'd be rescued.

Russell then hesitated and took a better look at the bottom line. His eyes widened, but he didn't mention it.

The names Edward Elric and Fuhrer King Bradley were already printed above their own names. Ed's in a bright _red_ of all colors, and the Fuhrer's in bold black.

Why would Ed get the Fuhrer to sign these papers? It was true that Fletcher and Russell weren't exactly bothering to read all the fine print, but what the hell would it need the _Fuhrer's_ agreement on? And how'd he convince King Bradley to sign all this anyway? This must've taken an exceeding amount of time to fill out, especially since a Fuhrer can't just blindly sign whatever was handed to him. Why would the Fuhrer take so much time out of his day to accommodate a single state alchemist?

Al couldn't believe this was happening. Why did Ed have a suitcase full of documents that basically controlled every part of their life? Why did Ed tell this boy to sign those papers? Why did he give Fletcher the key? Was Fletcher lying? He had to be! Ed wouldn't _do _this to him! He wouldn't leave Al, he'd never! These Trighams had to be making this up! They _had_ to be! THIS COULDN'T BE HAPPENING! Not after all they've been through! Not after Mom, and Nina, and Barry the Chopper! Not after becoming a state alchemist, not after surviving Izumi's training! Not after searching for the Philosopher's Stone all this time! Not after Leore, not after everything they'd been through! This. Couldn't. Be. HAPPENING!

But Al couldn't find his voice, and once all the papers were signed, Fletcher put them all in the trunk and slammed it shut, the padlock making a clicking sound as it locked.

Fletcher gripped Ed's coat tightly once more.

"Now will you answer our questions?" Hughes asked. Fletcher nodded.

"Why was Ed in the mansion?"

Fletcher averted his eyes, but his voice stayed still and firm, resolute. As though if he let his voice falter, he'd lose his nerve.

"He was really ill when he came to confront us about the identity theft. I know this won't make sense to any of you, but I felt really bad about it and I snuck into the house to see if he'd be okay. But . . . he told me he caught the cough elsewhere, but his torso was covered in red dots and lines, like a rash. . . . Something was poisoning him. . . . I didn't want to get caught or get in a fight with anyone, so I used some alchemized plants to get him into a wagon I had brought with me. . . . I really did try to make him better. Really. B-but he just kept getting worse. I just – " Tears ran down his cheeks. "I just couldn't figure out what it was that was killing him!" Fletcher buried his face into his arms – into Ed's coat – and sobbed.

Russell pulled Fletcher into his arms and hugged him. Fletcher leaned into the comfort, pressing his head closer to his brother's chest. A frown etched itself in Russell's expression.

"Fletcher . . . why didn't you tell me about this?"

Fletcher hiccupped, the sound almost completely muffled.

"You – you would've yelled at me for – for putting us at risk."

Russell flinched – and didn't deny it.

Fletcher sniffed and pulled away from Russell.

"He – he wasn't even that mad at me . . . . He said – he said he was _lucky_ he found someone who could look after . . . ."

Hughes glanced at Al as he shifted, his armor clanging as he did so. Al's body shuddered with the anger building up in his soul. How _dare_ he say that! Like he knew Ed – like he cared what he thought!

"So he died of natural causes," Hughes reiterated. Fletcher nodded. "Did that cause the bizarre skin, body, and eye malformations?"

Fletcher froze, eyes wide, looking like a deer caught in headlights. A tense silence hung in the air.

"Sir," Hawkeye said, "I don't think that is a question he can possibly answer. He has already told us he didn't know what was killing him."

Havoc dropped his cigarette and dug it into the ground. "I agree, Lieutenant Colonel."

Hughes, Mustang, and Al said nothing, though they were thinking along the same lines. Hughes closed his eyes.

"Fine. Then how about you two explain why you were pretending to be the Elric brothers?"

Russell wrapped an arm around Fletcher's shoulders and held him close.

"Our father, Nash Trigham, used to work for Mugiar. Originally, he had worked for the military developing the crystallized version of Red Water . . . . Dad left us and our mom, when Fletcher was pretty little. But he was a great father, so I knew his work must've been important. After our mom died, we went in search for him, to help him with his research. We learned that he last worked with Mugiar, and that he hadn't been seen since them. So we decided to work for Mugiar, hoping he'd come back. Hoping Dad would come back. Mugiar wouldn't hire us unless we had some sort of accreditation. So I lied and made Fletcher lie with me." Russell bowed his head. "We worked on the Red Water . . . and then the real ones showed up. Mugiar wanted to exterminate us . . . so he wouldn't get caught up in criminal stuff . . . I guess. And you know what happened after that."

Mustang frowned. Time for the truly incriminating part of the conversation.

"Are you aware of what Red Water does to those who breathe it in?"

Russell and Fletcher both gasped and looked up, fear in their eyes. Gulping, Russell nodded. Mustang narrowed his eyes.

"So you know that it causes severe coughs, fevers, and death if breathed in over a long period of time."

"What?" Al gasped. "But – but that's what happened to Ed!"

Fletcher cringed. Russell tightened his hold on him.

"You can't pin his death on us! He wasn't here long enough to be affected by the - !"

Fletcher's gasp stopped Russell's objection. Russell looked to his little brother.

"Wh-what is it?"

Fletcher's jaw went slack, and his eyes widened, his brain going into hyper drive. He moved his lips but no words came out. Abruptly, he stood up and bolted into the house, Ed's coat flying behind him. No, no, no, no. That couldn't be it. It doesn't make any sense. No, no, no, no, no. But what else could it be? But what would that mean? No, no, no, no, no!

Alarmed, Al and Russell chased after him, Mustang and the others close behind. Elysa's father glared at him as he ran into the sink, dropping Ed's pocket watch in his haste to turn the faucet on.

"What do you think _you're_ doing?" Al demanded.

A strangled cry escaped Fletcher's throat and he stepped away from the sink.

"B-Brother?"

Russell hesitated, realizing what Fletcher must have thought of.

"Yeah, Fletcher?"

Fletcher slowly turned around, eyes wide in terror, and pointed at the running water. Everyone took a good look, and gasped.

Red Water hit the sink basin, not the muted, strong color it had been in the mansion, but a light poisonous red. It gushed out of the faucet, betraying its creators. In more ways than one.

"Why is it in the water supply?" Fletcher stammered, his hand shaking. "Why isn't it held off by the dam?" Fletcher's mouth trembled. "Brother, if the Red Water is in the water supply, _does that mean we killed Edward Elric_?" His breathing turned erratic, the horror of the thought grasping his brain like a hawk with its prey. Not only couldn't Fletcher save Edward, but he and Russell may have killed him. They may have killed him. They may have killed him! No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!

Russell stepped away from his brother and the incriminating evidence. He swallowed hard, and took a deep breath.

"It's not your fault, Fletcher. You didn't know. Besides, you were looking at how Red Water affected plants, remember? You wouldn't have had anything to do with it, even if you knew about it."

Fletcher shook his head, as though to clear it. No, that couldn't be what he was saying. It couldn't be! Russell!

He wasn't the only one to notice what Russell seemed to be saying.

Hawkeye pointed her gun at Russell, her expression neutral.

"Is that an admittance to a crime, Russell Trigham?" she asked.

Russell eyed her gun warily.

"I – I did introduce it to a water supply that didn't belong to the mansion. But I didn't think it'd get into the main one!"

Hawkeye narrowed her eyes, but Al's reaction forestalled any military action.

Al punched Russell in the face. Russell was sent flying, landing on his back on the table. Russell winced and touched his cheek.

"MURDERER!" Al screamed, as Havoc and Hughes grabbed hold of him. Mustang got between Al and Russell.

"Get a hold of yourself!" Mustang barked.

"_HE KILLED MY BROTHER_!" How could Mustang tell him to _calm down_? This was _Ed_ they were talking about! Ed wouldn't have died without a fight, even if it was an illness! And now this guy _admitted_ to _murdering_ his brother, and Mustang _was taking HIS side_!?

"There's not enough evidence to suggest that yet!" Mustang argued. Elysa and her family huddled in the corner, frightened. Mustang turned around and glared at Russell. "Russell Trigham, you're hereby under arrest for the endangerment of the town of Xenotime, impersonating a state alchemist, experimenting with unapproved and illegal substances, and felony murder." He turned his eyes onto Fletcher, and his expression softened. Somewhat. "Fletcher Trigham, you're hereby under arrest for assisting an imposter. For now, we'll forego handcuffs, but only if you two help clean the water. If it turns out there's not too much damage, we'll think about lowering your charges."

Fletcher and Russell nodded, seeing the fairness in that. Russell sighed in relief. Thank God; his little brother wouldn't take too much of the heat. Fletcher, however, didn't look nearly as relieved. In fact, he could barely keep his eyes off of Al, who stood there, angry and mourning, and it may have been all their fault.


	4. Chapter 4

Red Roses2: 10 and a half pages. Tell me what you think, and what you think I should improve on.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. It belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.

!#$%^&*()_+~

Shadows wrapped around the three like a cloak, and it taunted Envy to no end.

"Envy, why are we still here?" Lust asked

Envy growled and pressed his palm against his forehead. It was hard to think when she kept _bothering_ him!

"I _told_ you, we're not _done_ yet." Why couldn't see sense it? He couldn't be the _only _one who felt its presence. He couldn't be the only one experiencing the warm, tingly feeling in the back of his skull. He wouldn't call it a pleasant feeling, but it was _something_ and it was _important_!

"But we can't get a Philosopher's Stone out of this place. Not anymore."

That didn't _matter_, damn it!

Gluttony tugged at Lust's dress, his finger tucked into his lower lip.

"Lust, I'm hungry."

. . . . _Ugh_, that really _was_ all Gluttony thought about.

"We'll get you something to eat soon, but first we need to _find_ it," Envy said.

Lust and Gluttony shared a look.

"Find what?"

AUGH!

"You'll know it when you see it!"

Envy snarled at them and stomped down the hall.

Where was it? It couldn't have gotten far.

The Red Water Fountain sat harmlessly against the wall of the cavern, and the suspicious absence of red vapor spurred Envy onward.

~!#$%^&*()_+

The room wasn't as dark as it should have been. The windows brought in too much light. They didn't even need the damn overhead light.

It didn't feel right – that they'd be solving Edward's death in a fully lit room. But what was Hughes going to do? Make tribute to the rain god and hope it put a damper on everything? Dry weather and good lighting was perfect for detoxing the water supply, so at least that was in their favor.

Hughes locked the door and turned towards Al, Mustang, Armstrong, and Brigadier General Gran. He pushed his glasses farther up his nose and stepped up to the table. Upon the table lay the malformed corpse of Edward Elric. Al refused to look at it.

"What's the meaning of this, Lieutenant Colonel?" Gran demanded. "What _is_ that thing?"

Mustang's jaw tightened. Hughes immediately regretted bringing Gran into this. But he couldn't have done much else. Gran was a higher ranking officer than any soldier in Xenotime right now. Hughes needed the backup.

"It's what I said it was. What's left of Edward Elric," said Hughes.

Armstrong gasped and reexamined the corpse. His eyes widened, and he reached out, then retracted his hand. As though wanting to touch it, to see if it was real, but afraid of what the truth would mean.

How well had Armstrong known Ed? Hughes honestly had no idea. Maybe personally knowing Ed wasn't necessary. Ed had been a child. Fifteen, but a child nonetheless. Military officer or not, for a child to die so suddenly – and to have his corpse look like _this_ – it was garish, it was grotesque, it was heartbreaking.

"Impossible! Its eyes are purple! Edward's are a brilliant gold."

Mustang frowned.

That was an understatement. The skin was ash black, for God's sake! The skeleton structure was twisted – what kind of bone was _horseshoe shaped?_ – and it looked like it didn't have any muscle.

"That's not the only thing." Hughes snapped himself out of his reminiscing. That's right. He hadn't told anyone yet. Just looking at Mustang's face told him that informing them _now_ wouldn't be a good idea. "There's a strange tattoo on its back. As far as I know, Ed didn't have one." Mustang glanced at Al. "Right?"

Al nodded. "Even if he wants one, we never have any time for anything so frivolous."

Pain flashed across Mustang's face. Al pointedly ignored it. He wouldn't admit Ed was dead. Not until they _proved_ that _thing_ was him.

"That brings us to what we're here for," Hughes said. His eyes hardened. "We're to find out whether or not this is the product of human transmutation."

The shock of Armstrong and Gran thrummed through the air.

"Human transmutation?" Armstrong exclaimed.

"What are you getting at, Hughes? Are you saying a _child_ would do something like this?" Gran said.

Why did the man sound so damn _angry_ all the time? It wasn't like he actually _cared_. . . . Hughes stopped that train of thought.

"I'm saying that it's possible that the Red Water may have caused an _accidental_ human transmutation." Hughes said.

"I don't know, Maes," Mustang said. "There's no evidence that Red Water could do such a thing on its own."

Hughes shook his head.

"That's not what I'm saying. I think that the kid was preparing Ed's final wish, then the Red Water got in the way."

Gran crossed his arms, drew himself up to his full height, and succeeded in looking imposing. Hughes tightened his fists, glaring at Gran as if to dare him.

"Not a chance, Lieutenant Colonel. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a unit to lead!" Gran slammed the door behind him, leaving the four alone with the corpse. A tense silence hovered over them.

He was going to _get_ that horrible man. Just wait.

Hughes cleared his throat.

"Al, you'd know more about human transmutation than any of us. What do you think?" Hughes said.

Al stared at him, letting silence reign once again.

His theory wasn't a happy one. In fact, it would hurt more than help. But Ed was _gone_. For no good reason. Al didn't know if this hollow feeling in his soul would ever go away.

"_I_ think Fletcher just wanted to erase his mistakes." Mustang flinched, Hughes's eyes hardened, and Armstrong faltered. "Had he succeeded, everything would have turned out just fine for him, through equivalent exchange. Fletcher brings him back, Ed's in his debt. Big time. _That's_ what I think he was trying to accomplish."

"But Alphonse, Fletcher is just a child. Do you really, truly think he'd capable of such a thing?"

"Don't bother, Armstrong. He's not thinking clearly." Mustang interjected, before Al could answer. "Quite frankly, neither am I." The colonel tightened his fists. "I just can't believe he's dead."

~!#$%^&*()_+

Fuery peered around the corner at the Trigham brothers, his eyebrows furrowed. They looked so normal and innocent, more so than Ed and Al ever did. Were those two really the cause for the water pollution?

Fuery started when he heard footsteps. He turned around and saluted, only to see that it was Havoc. Fuery's attention immediately went to the lack of cigarette.

"Lieutenant?"

Havoc lowered his head, his eyelids drooping.

"Hey, Fuery."

The depression in the other man's eyes was paramount.

"Are you okay, sir?"

Havoc swallowed and lifted his head.

"Where are the other soldiers?"

"Uh, by the river, helping with the detox. I was just getting back to that. Why?"

Havoc started trudging toward the river. Fuery stared after him, then hurried to catch up. Breda, Falman, Bloch, Maria Ross, and several other soldiers and state alchemists looked up as Havoc stacked a couple of crates, then stood upon them. Fuery stared like everyone else, but he was the only one close enough to see the pain.

"There's an – an announcement I have to make, on behalf of the Colonel," Havoc began, swallowing hard.

The non-alchemists stopped their respective tasks, and the alchemist finished their transmutations. Every soldier wore a face mask, but no one needed to see their frowns to see that they were confused.

"You all know that we're here to purify the water due to poison. But I'm sure you are all wondering why this involves the military."

Pain flashed in Havoc's eyes, and Fuery felt his heart clench. Where was this going?

Breda and Falman stood up. Havoc was their co-worker and friend. They could tell when something was bothering him.

The lack of cigarette was a dead give away.

"We believe that the poison killed Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist."

Gasps circled around those present. Fuery's glasses slipped off and fell to the ground, shattering. His jaw hung there, shock freezing his muscles.

Fullmetal was dead?

You mean they'd never hear him rant about his height? Or complain about the milk in the cafeteria? Or yell at the colonel?

"Havoc, are you sure?" Breda shouted over the crowd.

Havoc gritted his teeth, and his muscles tightened.

"They're resting the corpse right now to be sure. But that's why we're here. As you were."

Havoc jumped down from the crates and walked away.

Fuery trembled there, the reality seeping in. They lost a comrade. They lost a superior. They lost an overly qualified alchemist. They lost a fifteen-year-old boy who, despite his position, had been their responsibility to look after him, like the colonel told them to. Oh, God, the colonel – he thought of Edward like a son or little brother – how was he taking this? And havoc had cared a lot about Edward, too – exactly _what _Edward had been to Havoc, he was never quite sure (friend? Brother? Son? Object of romantic affection?), but that didn't matter anymore.

Fuery found himself breaking into a run.

"Lieutenant Havoc!"

Havoc slowed to a stop and looked over his shoulder.

"Yeah, Fuery?" Said so gloomily that, had the man had his trademark cigarette, it would have gone out as though doused in water.

"I'm so sorry." What else could he say? What else could he do? He didn't feel comfortable patting him on the shoulder or anything like that – he was of a lower rank, for Christ's sake, he couldn't do that! – but it just felt like his condolences were lacking.

Havoc clapped a hand on Fuery's shoulder, his eyes communicating a whole load of grief.

"Thanks. We all are. But the one you should be comforting is Mustang."

"What about Alphonse?"

Of all things, Havoc scowled.

"Al's hopeless. He goes from trying to beat up the eldest Trigham for poisoning the river, then to insisting that Ed's still alive and ill somewhere. At least, that's what I _think_ he means when he says he doesn't believe the corpse is Ed's."

Fuery furrowed his eyebrows.

"Why would he doubt it?"

Havoc grimaced.

"It doesn't look human anymore, to tell you the truth."

Fuery gasped.

"What happened to make it _look_ like that, we don't know yet, but Hughes is investigating as we speak."

~!#$%^&*()_+

Envy, Lust, and Gluttony crouched behind a tower of crates and peered at the soldiers. Envy scowled, Lust groaned, and Gluttony pulled at his lower lip.

This was going to be rather inconvenient. There'd be no way to do this without people noticing.

"_Lust_, I'm still _hungry_."

Envy's eyebrow twitched.

"We know, Gluttony. We'll get you some more soon."

"You said that an hour ago!"

"_Will you two shut up_?" Envy hissed, his grip on his knee tightening. A small cracking sound alerted Envy that, if he didn't remove his hand from his knee, he'd end up snapping it in two. _That _certainly wouldn't help matters.

Gluttony whimpered and Lust glared at him. Envy turned his head away from the soldiers and examined a warehouse-looking building. Knowing Xenotime, it was probably someone's home.

"How certain are we that _that_ is the building that they're keeping it?" Envy asked.

Lust closed her eyes and crossed her arms.

"They're guarding it for a reason. Only one person is still in there. The Flame stormed out in a hissy fit, the Strong Arm basically threw Alphonse out, and the guy with the glasses ran off to find a pay phone."

"So the only one in there is Strong Arm," Envy reiterated. If that was the case. . . .

Lust nodded. Envy grinned. Jackpot.

"Gluttony?"

"Yes?"

"Does big and muscle-y sound appetizing to you?"

Gluttony's face split into a ravenous grin, drool dripping from his gums.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Hughes ran back to the house, his military jacket billowing behind him.

"Armstrong!" Hughes shouted, banging open the front door. "The Fuhrer agreed to - !"

He came to a halt, the scene before him turning his blood ice cold.

Blood puddle around Armstrong's body, his flesh ripped and bone exposed. His right leg looked like it had been torn off by some kind of carnivore, and Hughes only found the right shoe. His innards were chomped to pieces, and he could see teeth marks – _human _teeth marks – on Armstrong's shoulder. Bloodied footprints led to the window, but Hughes didn't dare more. He forcefully tore his eyes away from Armstrong's corpse to the _three_ different sets of bloodied footprints . . . though only two were close to Armstrong's body.

The third pair of footprints – they were smaller and shaped like the person was barefoot – stood next to the table where Edward's corpse was supposed to be. . . .

Nothing but maple wood stared back at him.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Envy cuddled the malformed thing, sitting across from Lust and Gluttony. The scenery past them by as the train barreled down the tracks. Gluttony stared at the assorted animals and people, grinning greedily.

"Why couldn't I have brought my food?" Gluttony asked.

"We're in a hurry, and we don't want to be delayed because your meal happened to be raw human." Lust said, her eyes focused on Envy and the . . . thing. Envy gazed at it almost lovingly. As far as she could tell, whatever it was was dead. Why did it matter so much?

Envy nuzzled it – and its finger twitched. Envy smirked.

"I knew you were alive. You just needed a little encouragement."

It made a pitiful sound, like a cross between a bird's cry and a sheep's dying baa. Had Lust a heart, it would have broken.

"Shush now, it's okay. We won't let the mean humans hurt you any more." Envy cooed, gently lifting its head.

Something about the body was familiar. Like Lust had seen it somewhere before. But where?

She thought as hard as she could, but it was difficult to remember. She recalled a dark room, and the sounds of bombs going off, and a man's voice. . . . That's right. She used to look like that. They all used to look like that. The thing was a new homunculus. How had Envy known where to find it? She thought that only their Master could locate new homunculi.

Poor thing. She did remember how her body had flared with pain when she was first created. Then she was left alone, to fend for herself . . . or to die all over again. Then Master came, spirited her away, and helped her become what she was today.

Wait. The hair. That hair belonged to someone she knew. That shade of blond was unique. A special golden color. And . . . was it missing an arm and a leg?

Lust gasped.

"Fullmetal?"

It made its pitiful sound again.

Envy sneered at her.

"Lust, you know better than that. He's not Fullmetal Edward Elric anymore." Envy touched his forehead to the struggling new homunculus's temple, strands of its golden hair getting caught on his nose. "He's our beautiful younger brother now."

Lust pushed her back against her seat, uneasiness settling in her. Why was Envy acting like this?

"And I have the perfect name for him."

Gluttony even removed his eyes from all the potential food.

"What is it?" Gluttony asked.

Lust's eyes widened as the new homunculus – awkwardly, slowly – lifted his left hand and struggled to grasp Envy's shirt. Its hand shuddered terribly, and its fingers ghosted over the fabric. A strangled sound escaped its throat, and it managed a fragile hold on it.

Envy positively purred. He covered its hand with his, helped it get a tighter hold.

"We'll call him Desperate."

Envy was feeling content, Lust realized. Satisfied. She wasn't sure she liked it.

"Why?" she asked.

Envy's smirk widened.

"Listen closely, Lust."

Lust furrowed her eyebrows. Gluttony even paid attention.

The homunculus gave another cry.

"Raaa. . . ."

Envy caressed its malformed face, whispering encouragement and comfort, completely different from what he usually is like.

"Braaa. . . ."

"That's it, Desperate. You can say it."

"Braaa_a_th . . . er."

Envy's smirk split into an all-out grin. Gluttony aahed in surprise. Lust gasped.

She remembered what it had been like to speak when she had been like that. Her vocal chords had burned so badly, she didn't even bother to try. But this one, he was actually trying to form a word. And not just any word.

The one word that ruled Edward Elric's life.

"Very good, Desperate. Can you try again?"

It made a choking sound, like it'd much rather vomit blood, but it tried again.

"Braaath . . . _er_."

"That's right, little Desperate. I'm your big brother. And I'll take good care of you."

It whimpered, but managed to lay its head on Envy's shoulder, instead of his neck. Envy wrapped his arms around it and held it gently.

Lust lowered her head, pity pooling in the bottom of the cavity in her chest where a heart would be.

"I see. . . . Desperate for comfort. Desperate for a reprieve from the pain. . . ."

Envy didn't need to look so damn smug about it.

"Desperate for family. A brother, specifically." Envy added, his sadistic grin starting to boil Lust's blood.

Gluttony sniffed the air and tucked his finger into his lower lip again.

"Do you smell that?"

Envy's grin finally fell off.

"Smell what?"

Gluttony stepped toward Desperate and pointed to his torso.

"His body. It smells like Red Water."

Envy brought his nose close to Desperate and sniffed.

"I don't smell anything."

Lust didn't find anything wrong scent-wise, but her eyes did catch something.

"Envy."

"What?"

"Doesn't his stomach area look a little concave to you?"

Envy took a better look and narrowed his eyes at it. His belly did look like the skin was sinking in on itself. He frowned.

"It's too early to tell. He'll need to be developed a little more." Envy tightened his grip, then loosened it when Desperate gave a pained cry.

Lust frowned deeply, wondering what the hell happened to make this happen.

Fullmetal was supposed to be the one to make the Stone for them. Not be one of them.


	5. Chapter 5

Red Roses2:

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. It belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.

!#$%^&*()_+~

Russell thrashed against Al, trying to escape his hold.

"WE DIDN'T DO IT!"

Russell screamed as Al wrenched his arm back. Fletcher crouched on the ground, trembling. Dust marred his green overalls, and small scrapes glared from his palms and elbows: the evidence of having been pushed.

"Alphonse! Let him go!" Mustang ordered, fingers prepped for an alchemic _boom_.

Russell's head was forced down, and he choked on his spit, coughed, screamed again as Al twisted his arm in, farther behind him.

"_Let go, damn it!_"

Mustang snapped his fingers, and a flash of flame flared from inside Al's armor. Al yelped and let go, the fire tickling the blood seal. Russell fell to the ground and, with a spider's speed, crawled to Fletcher. He touched Fletcher's shoulders.

"Are you okay?"

Fletcher nodded, his mouth twisting into a strangled frown. Russell sighed in relief, then stood back up and whirled on Al.

"You can't just accuse us of every damn crime in Xenotime!" Russell shrieked, just as Mustang bellowed his admonition, almost word for word. "You can't just accuse them for everything!"

"We're not psychopaths and we don't have a reason to kill _any_ of you!"

"The evidence doesn't even _point_ to them, and multiple eye witnesses can confirm they were no where near Armstrong at the time of death! Besides, they're _children_!"

"We're sorry your brother's dead, but that doesn't give you the right to _attack_ us whenever you damn feel like it!"

At the mention of Ed, Al lunged forward again. How _dare_ he talk about Ed like that! Like he didn't matter!

Russell jumped back, Fletcher closed his eyes, clapped his hands, touched the ground, and a tree sprouted from the ground. It rammed right in Al's chest and lifted Al high, branches sprouting from its body and leaves budding. Al yelled in surprise as the ground moved farther and farther away, the tree carrying him higher and higher, and Fletcher stared in shock, not understanding what just happened. The tree stopped growing, Al tried to figure out how he'd get down (it wouldn't be happening any time soon), and Fletcher slowly removed his eyes from the tree to his hands. He pulled them away from the dirt before him and turned the palms upward for further inspection.

How had he _done_ that? Without a transmutation circle? How was that even _possible_?

"Fletcher . . . what just - ?" Russell asked, still staring at the tree.

Mustang grabbed Fletcher under his arms and lifted him up. Fletcher looked up at Mustang, met his stern expression, and gulped. Mustang proceeded to carry Fletcher off. Fletcher tripped over himself for the first few paces, but he managed to keep up with the colonel's wider steps.

Russell turned around, about to ask Fletcher another question, and saw the colonel pulling his brother away.

"Hey!" Russell shouted, running after them. "Where are you taking him!?"

Mustang drug Fletcher into the building the Trighams had been barricaded in during the nights and locked the door. The only light in the room was a dim lamp sitting on the bedside table between Fletcher's and Russell's beds. The windows were boarded up, small insignificant rays of light barely breaking through.

The colonel kept his back to Fletcher, his hand lingering over the doorknob.

"Get your things. We're heading to Central."

Fletcher squeaked.

"W-why?"

"Don't ask questions! Just do it!"

Mustang's eyes flashed with anger, and Fletcher hurried to pack everything.

The boy folded Ed's red coat and laid it in the trunk first, then he laid Ed's pocket watch in its center, the chain coiling around the government emblem. He then proceeded to throw everything else in haphazardly – books, clothes, a pack of seeds, what looked to be a research journal, and a private journal.

Russell collided with the door, tried the door knob, then pounded on the door.

"Hey! What are you doing to Fletcher!? ANSWER ME!"

Russell took out a broken piece of white chalk from his pocket – more of a nub than a piece – and drew an alchemy circle on the door –

And felt the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of his head.

"Alchemy outside of cleaning the water is prohibited during your arrest," said a female voice – Russell was pretty sure her name was Maria.

Russell turned around and pointed at the door.

"Then _you_ find out what's going on!"

Maria retracted her gun, walked up to the door, and knocked.

"Colonel Mustang? Is everything all right?"

The sound of something breaking followed by "Lieutenant Ross?"

"Yes, sir."

Silence, and then –

"I can't explain right now, but Fletcher Trigham and I have to go to Eastern Headquarters. The other one is to stay with the rest of you."

Maria opened her mouth to speak, but she heard the faint sound of "B-but that's not what you said two seconds ago!" and Russell beat her to it.

"Fletcher's not going _anywhere_ alone with _any_ of you! I've heard about those horror stories about interrogations! How you bastards yell at your suspects and twist their words and force them to tell you what you _want_ to hear! You're not going that to him! Find someone else to blame!"

The door swung open, Mustang's hand reached out, grabbed the front of Russell's shirt, and he brought the boy's face close to his. Maria faltered, unsure about what to do. This was her superior, but she couldn't let him use his power to go about doing whatever he wanted. But what was it that he was doing, anyway? Why couldn't he tell her?

Fletcher stood behind Mustang, his suitcase and Ed's document trunk clasped in his hands. Russell felt the heat of Mustang's breath on his lips, and he swallowed nervously, a cold sweat running down his face. What was he going to do?

Mustang's glare sent a chill down his spine.

"_You_ don't know _anything_ about this military _or_ its soldiers. You ignorantly impersonated one of our best, and now you _fight_ us."

Russell grunted, trying to throw off the feeling he would learn how barbeque felt in a few moments.

"You don't even realize how delicate your brother's situation is." Mustang let go of Russell, Russell falling backwards. Maria caught him. "I'm taking him to Eastern HQ because I no longer have a choice."

Mustang marched out of the building, and Fletcher hesitated after him, looking over his shoulder at Russell.

"Hurry, Fletcher," Mustang called.

Fletcher gulped, then broke into a run. What else was he supposed to do? Mustang was the one with a ready-at-hand alchemic weapon. Not him. He would've felt better if he knew where they were actually _going_. . . . And why did he tell the lieutenant a lie?

"Bye, Brother!"

Russell panicked. He struggled against Maria, wanting to go after them.

"Wait! Fletcher! Damn it, Mustang, why is _Fletcher's_ situation delicate!? _I'm_ the one facing a potential life sentence! MUSTANG, ANSWER ME!"

He didn't want Fletcher to leave. Who'd look after him? Who'd take care of him? Who'd protect him from any crap that Mustang might pull? Why wouldn't he go with them? Why couldn't he go and look after his little brother?

_That's what Edward Elric would've done for HIS little brother!_

"COME BACK HERE!"

Neither alchemist responded, but Fletcher's tears sparkled as they trailed behind him.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Envy brought his hand to Desperate's mouth, but Desperate turned his head away from it. Envy growled and pushed the partial Philosopher's Stones closer to Desperate's mouth.

"_Eat it_, it'll help you develop and grow stronger! You want the pain to go away, don't you?"

Desperate tried to keep its lips far away from the stones.

The sound of footsteps alerted Envy of his mother's approach.

"Envy, I doubt they will help, even if he _does_ eat them."

Envy glared at her. How dare she butt in! She didn't care what happened to him. She just wanted a new pawn. Well, that wasn't going to happen. He wouldn't let her use him like the others. Desperate would be _his_ brother, _his_ to look after.

"And why not?"

She smirked at him, and responded condescendingly.

"I once had a student who lost her organs due to a transmutation. When she would lie down, the skin over her stomach would sink in on itself."

Envy's eyes widened as he realized what she was getting at.

"Also, didn't you think it strange that he was moved from where the transmutation occurred? Normally homunculi are abandoned, not tested on."

Envy rounded on her and threw a punch. She clapped her hands and Envy flew backwards. Her smirk widened.

"I'd say his organs were used as materials for something."

"SHUT UP!"

Envy didn't lunge at her again, but instead pounded on the floor. The room trembled and Desperate cried out. Envy immediately stopped, pulled himself out of his self-made crater, and touched Desperate's shoulder lightly.

Desperate was so _fragile_. A little disruption or vibration could upset him, even if it was just Gluttony's heavy steps. Envy had a feeling even lightly touching him sent pain through his body, yet Desperate didn't complain.

He truly named him properly.

Envy's blood boiled as his mother's laughed.

"Silly boy. Pretending you have emotions."

"GET OUT! "He would _not_ let her say those things near his little brother. _He_ would tell him right and wrong, correct and incorrect, _not_ her!

She left, laughing all the way.

Her words echoed in his head, and maybe she was right. But he wanted to hear it from Desperate, if he remembered. _Not_ from _her_.

"There must be something we can give you that will help you develop."

Envy's eyes widened as an idea struck him. He ran a hand through Desperate's blond hair, a coo (or was it a whimper?) emerging from the younger's open mouth.

"I'll be right back. I need to talk to Pride about something. I'll get Lust to look after you in the meantime."

Envy stood and turned to leave, but a frail clawing at his leg stopped him. Envy gave Desperate a pitying look, his eyebrows furrowed guiltily.

"It won't take long, I promise. I'll be right back."

"St-st-a_aa_y. . . pl-_eas_e."

The memory of his father's retreating back flashed through Envy's mind.

"I – I'llll b-beee g-gooooood."

Envy knelt down and held Desperate gently.

"Lust!"

The female homunculus stepped out of the shadows, her hair obscuring part of her face.

"Yes?"

"Call Sloth. Tell her to get her lily-white ass over here."

"That's not practical right now, and you know it."

"Then tell Pride!"

"Why? What are you trying to do?"

Envy glared at her, his teeth grinding against each other.

"We need someone to get the base materials out of Xenotime _now_!"

Lust furrowed her eyebrows, Envy's statement not making any sense.

"But it's not in Xenotime any more."

Envy screeched in frustration.

"Why am I surrounded by idiots and bitches!?" Envy immediately turned to Desperate and cuddled him. "Except you, of course. You're going to be my perfect little brother."

Lust frowned. Was all the praise really necessary? Was it even _healthy_ for the developing homunculus? She wouldn't know. Their master never said such things to them. But watching Envy be _nurturing_ was frightening.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Fletcher periodically glanced at Mustang as he looked over every signed document in the trunk. Mustang never looked up from the papers, and a heavy feeling settled in his stomach. The colonel was mad at him. He knew he was. And, if it was possible, he wasn't even mad about causing Ed's death. No, Fletcher had done something else . . . and he didn't think he'd like what Mustang had to say about it. And where the hell were they _going_? First he says Central, then he tells that woman Eastern Headquarters. Those two places are _not_ in the same direction.

Mustang set the papers down, but he didn't look up. He crossed his arms, and Fletcher thought the frown on his face would become permanent.

"How much did you know about these papers before you signed them?"

Fletcher stared silently for a moment.

"Just that they would ensure Brother and I would become Al's caregivers and that they'd be in a locked trunk."

Mustang hummed thoughtfully, and the train's rumbling filled the silence once more. Fletcher fidgeted and bit his lower lip.

"Why did he trust you?"

Fletcher looked up.

"What?"

"_Why _did he _trust_ you?" Mustang repeated.

Fletcher hung his head. Ed's flushed cheeks, shining eyes, and difficult smile rippled to the front of his memory.

"I wouldn't say he trusted me. . . . It was more of a matter of necessity."

_You're a nice kid, Fletcher. I could certainly do worse._

"It was either me or leaving Al all alone in the world. He wanted a say in who would look after him was all it really was."

_I know this isn't fair to you, but it would mean the world to me if you took care of Al. He's all that matters to me. _

Mustang looked up – finally. Fletcher flinched at the look in his eyes.

"Why did you agree to it? You could have walked away."

Fletcher shook his head.

"If Russell had been in Ed's situation, he would have done the same, and I know I wouldn't know what to do with myself if anything happened to Russell. I would have needed someone – anyone – to help me. So how _could _I refuse, when I could so strongly _imagine_ what being without my own brother would be like?"

_There are some things you need to know about Al, so you can look after him properly. He's a soul attached to a suit of armor. He can be ridiculously dense when it comes to other people's morality, especially if it's a pretty lady, so don't let him befriend any criminals, okay? _

"How did he die?"

Fletcher swallowed hard, the image still burned into his retinas . . . along with the malformed _thing_. Blood dribbling down his chin, eyes losing focus, Fletcher's overalls covered in coughed-up blood, his cheeks turning pale, his lips tinged blue, and his blond hair drifting down the side of his face as gravity pulled his head further down the pillow.

"He started puking blood for some reason. I guess the Red Water started destroying his organs. Then he just . . . stopped."

_Here's how you should refresh Al's blood seal._

Mustang uncrossed his arms, his expression saddening. Fletcher sniffed.

"So why did you try to bring him back?"

A sob escaped Fletcher's lips, and he covered his mouth with his hand.

Why _had_ he created that pitiful excuse of a life?

"I – I was scared and – and I didn't want to believe he was dead. . . ."

An inadequate response, but what else could he say? He couldn't explain how Ed's requests frightened him, couldn't explain how guilty he felt, couldn't explain how a person he barely knew could touch his heart like that.

And he couldn't even explain to _himself_ why he hadn't wanted to let go.

Fletcher looked up when Mustang handed him one of the documents. He took it and read it, realizing half way down the page why Mustang gave it to him.

"This is - !"

Mustang nodded.

"Papers that prohibit the arrest or conviction of you and your brother. Looks like the only punishment you two will receive is following in Ed's footsteps."

Fletcher's eyes widened. _What_? Could a piece of paper really have that kind of power?

"Which is why we're not headed to Eastern HQ. . . . Or Central."

Wait. What?

Fletcher stared at Mustang, uneasiness crawling up his spine. The stern, calm, executioner stare bore into him.

"T-Then where are we going?"

Mustang looked out the window, a faraway look in his eyes, as though he were remembering something.

_The look in Ed's eyes when he gave the Fuhrer his answer during the state alchemy exam. The determination, the utmost, unwavering love he had for his brother, as he spoke those words. "I made a promise, to the only family I've got." _

Mustang closed his eyes and tried to will the pain away.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Al drew transmutation circle after transmutation circle after transmutation circle. The soldiers scrambled to ensure they rounded up all of the Red Water Al extracted. One bucket turned into two, then turned into three, four, six, eight twelve –

Al didn't pay attention to what was going on around him. All he could think about was Ed, alchemy, and everything connected to them.

"Do you have to draw those circles so fast, Mr. Elric?"

It was odd how Ed had the talent for alchemy, the uncanny ability to get it _right_ so often, and that it was _Al_ who had introduced it to him.

_Whatcha got there, Al? An alchemy book, Brother. Alchemy? What's that? It's this really cool science that - ! That what? N-never mind. Look, this is an alchemy circle. Hm. . . . You want to read it, Brother? I have more where that came from. Okay. Thanks!_

"Mr. Elric?"

After that, it was impossible to separate Ed from alchemy. Ed constantly read alchemy books, excelled in practicing it, got the greater joy in using it . . . . It was like Ed had fallen in love. The only thing that could make Ed happier was when he used it to make people happy.

Especially Mom.

"Think he has hearing problems?"

"Shush!"

Now Ed would never use alchemy again.

No. He couldn't think like that. Who said they could trust the Trighams, anyway? Maybe Mustang was finally listening to him, and that's why he took the younger one away. Yeah, that had to be it! When Mustang came back, they'd look for Brother together!

"Fuhrer, sir!"

Al halted mid-draw and looked up as booted feet encroached into his line of vision. A genial smile flashed at him.

"Hello, Alphonse Elric."

Al slowly stood up, standing taller than the army head.

"Hello."

"I'm deeply sorry for your loss. Edward had been an exceptional soldier."

Al didn't know what he wanted to say, but it wasn't the polite drivel that came out.

"Yes. He was. Thank you." _For giving the tools for his death to – us? The Trighams? _

Brigadier General Gran stepped up and saluted the Fuhrer.

"We've gathered all of the Red Water extractions just as you requested, Fuhrer sir." Gran announced.

Bradley nodded.

"Thank you, Gran. Load it onto the train."

Gran bowed and marched off. Al just stood there, not really curious about why they wanted the Red Water. Bradley walked past him, and Al barely paid any attention to the pat he gave his shoulder.

Back on memory lane, Ed was showing off a new alchemized bouquet of flowers to their mother. Al wished he were capable of crying.

~!#$%^&*()_+

He couldn't see. Not really. Everything was either a light smudged blur or a dark smudged blur. Brother was a combination of the two, dark where he could feel cloth and light where he felt his brother's skin. And everyone's voices sounded muffled. But he could feel his brother's arms around him, feel the air in his brother's chest when he spoke, and it distracted him from the pain flaring in the area between his ribcage and pelvis.

He bit back a whimper as his brother lifted him from the floor. His brother's chest thrummed against him as he spoke.

"About time!"

Ripples through the air, but he couldn't hear the words. It sounded like "Whvv duvv yuvv wonvv wvv vvt?" but somehow he knew that none of that made any sense when heard like that. Somehow he knew he was supposed to hear it better, clearer. He just didn't know how.

"Just pour it in the vat!" His brother cradled his head, and he liked it, despite the pain.

His brother's body jerked as it climbed the stairs of something, and he felt his brother letting go before –

SPLASH!

He gasped, the pain suddenly vanishing, except for the pain in his stomach area. That remained. Vision and hearing was granted to him, and Red Water filled his sight. He floated in the water, his hair getting in his face. Blond hair. Why was it blond? Brother's head wasn't blond. Neither were the others'. Why blond? He hoped Brother liked blond. He didn't want to be left alone again.

He floated to the surface, and took his first breath of non-painful air. Then proceeded to cough from the water intake.

His brother reached out for him, and he grasped his hand, a smile breaking through. Brother didn't mind the hair. That was good. Brother wasn't going to leave him alone. That was good.

"Feel better, Desperate?" asked Envy.

Desperate hugged Envy around the waist with his one arm, still half in the water. His skin no longer was black, but a pale white, and his body mirrored a human's on the outside.

"Brother. It feels mostly better." His voice was whispery, feathery, like he couldn't speak too loud – or was afraid to.

Envy pulled Desperate out of the vat of Red Water (supplied by Pride) and held the younger in his arms. He made a mental note to find out what automail mechanic they should use for Desperate; he had been hoping the Red Water would have rejuvenated the limbs as well, but it wasn't to be. Desperate nuzzled Envy's chest, content to just lay there in Envy's embrace, content to just feel loved.

That's all he wanted. It didn't matter that he couldn't walk on his own or make the pain in this gut go away as long as he was loved.

"What still hurts?"

Desperate touched his stomach, a pained smile on his lips. He didn't want to think about it, but if Brother wanted to know. . . . Envy's eyes darkened.

"Do you know what's wrong with it?"

Desperate shook his head.

"What do you remember?"

Desperate bowed his head, true anguish shattering his expression. Screams and sobs echoed in his head.

"Not turning out right."

_I – I'm sorry, Edward. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll take care of your brother now. I promise. Oh, God, what have I done to you? _

But who was that voice? Who was Edward? Why hadn't he been able to turn out right, if only to have spared that person those tears?


	6. Chapter 6

Red Roses2: Last chapter was 12 pages. This chapter is a little over 17 pages.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. It belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.

!#$%^&*()_+~

Hughes hung up the phone and walked down the street to where Russell and Al were sulking. The sun set in the distance, coloring the sky with gold and pink – crushing his feeble attempts at looking at the bright side. He could almost hear Armstrong saying some over-proportioned gush about the sunset's beauty, and that brought the tragedy of it down harder on him. Hughes frowned at the two boys, wondering how long they'd be acting like this. The more he thought about it, the bleaker his own attitude became. _Well, look on the bright side. Al wasn't trying to kill anyone._ Somehow that didn't make him feel any better.

Russell looked up as Hughes stepped up to him. The lieutenant colonel sat down next to him and handed him a silver pocket watch. Russell's eyes widened.

"What?"

Hughes bowed his head.

"Congratulations. Thanks to those papers you signed, instead of going to jail, you become a state alchemist." He hoped the slight sarcasm hadn't leaked into his tone.

Russell gasped. Hughes heard the creaking of Al's helmet; he tightened his fists. Stay calm, Al, stay calm.

"From now on, you research how you can get Al his human body back, in addition to whatever the Fuhrer, Brigadier General, Colonel, or I tell you to do. The research regarding Al stays strictly between you, your brother, Al, and Colonel Mustang."

"Is this for real?" Russell asked, weighing the pocket watch in his palm.

Hughes sighed. He couldn't really blame the kid. Everything that happened after Ed's death caused his life to spiral out of his control . . . and into the hands of the military. Of course he'd be skeptical of this.

"Yeah. It's for real," Hughes hesitated before adding, "Ed saved your life. And your brother's."

Russell's eyes widened, the realization settling in.

He owed a dead man a whole lot. Equivalent exchange required a lot of shit from him. And the only way he'd manage it would be if he took damn great care of Alphonse Elric.

Russell stared at the pocket watch for a moment longer, gripped it tightly, and stood up.

"Al!"

Al looked up.

"I'll help you! I'll take care of you like Ed wanted me and Fletcher to! But you're going to have to let me! Or else this debt is going to be a real pain in the ass!" Al turned his helmet to get a better look at Russell. Russell gnashed his teeth together. Hughes looked from one to the other and back again.

Al let loose a sigh. Russell faltered.

"Fine. If that's what Ed wants."

Russell waited a moment, then sighed in relief.

"Good. Thanks." He'd just ignore the use of present tense. "So, now that the water's clean, what do we do now?"

Al shrugged.

"Brother and I were going back to Central, to report to Colonel Mustang about what happened in Liore."

Russell pocketed the pocket watch, then put his hands on his hips.

"Well, the colonel's in East HQ now. So should we go there?"

Al hesitated a moment, then nodded. Russell smiled slightly.

Hughes tilted his head so the light refracted off his glasses, hiding his eyes. He stood up and left the two, the sky slowly developing into a purple. He thought about Mustang's vagueness over the phone. He thought about the pocket watch that used to belong to Armstrong, but now belonged to Russell. He thought about the trouble the Trigham brothers have gotten themselves into. He thought about Armstrong's and Ed's deaths and wondered if Scar had anything to do with it.

But more than anything, Hughes thought about the effect Ed's death was having on Al. For Hughes would not overlook the use of present tense. Not when Al was having such a hard time adjusting to being alone in the world.

He pushed a couple more quarters into the pay phone and dialed a number. He listened to it ring and waited for her to pick up. He swallowed hard as he heard the tell-all click.

"Hello?"

"Gracia?"

"Maes! How are you?"

A choking sound escaped his throat as he bit back his sobs. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks and lost themselves in his beard.

"Honey?" Gracia asked.

"Gracia . . . some really terrible things have been happening here in Xenotime."

Silence for a moment.

"What happened?"

Hughes swallowed hard.

"I've told you about Major Armstrong, right?"

"Yes. . . ."

"And you remember Ed, right?"

"Of course I do; he helped birth Elysia, after all. . . . Has something happened to him?"

Hughes's grip on the phone tightened, and his throat felt like something was lodged in it.

"T-They're both dead."

More silence.

"What?"

Hughes let out a sob, which was followed by more, and the amount of his tears increased until twin waterfalls were pouring down.

"Armstrong and Ed are dead. . . . Ed died from water poisoning. . . Armstrong had been guarding his body, and someone stole it . . . m-murdered him in the process!"

The longer he spoke, the quieter his voice became, until it was little more than a whisper.

"I was in charge, damn it! He was killed on my watch and - !"

He couldn't say any more. All he could do was sob into the phone and barely pay any attention to Gracia's feeble attempts at consoling him.

Ed was just a _kid_, damn it, it should've been one of _them_, not him!

~!#$%^&*()_+

Desperate hugged the pillow to his stomach in an attempt to lessen the pain. He wasn't sure it helped, but it was better than nothing. He lay curled up on the king-sized bed, the red linen sheets brushing against the little bit of limb he possessed. When was Brother coming back? Surely an hour had passed already? Gluttony had gotten bored of him and wandered off somewhere, he didn't like the mean lady, and Lust just sat there reading. He wanted to feel loved. He wanted his brother to hold him and talk to him. Was that really too much to ask?

What if Brother had gotten bored, like Gluttony? What if Brother really did dislike the blond hair? What if he agreed with the mean lady? What if he wasn't coming back? What if something bad happened to him? What if - ?

The door swung open, and Envy waltzed in, his arms full of _Automail Today_ magazine – copies and copies of _Automail Today_.

Desperate lifted his head up, a smile gracing his face.

"Brother."

Envy plopped down on the bed next to him and unloaded the magazine issues onto the mattress. Envy picked one and began looking through it. He furrowed his eyebrows as he felt something snake around his waist, and he looked down at Desperate. He smirked.

"Missed me?"

"Yes."

Desperate looked up at Envy with complete trust and adoration. It made Envy's skin crawl with excitement. Never had he ever had anyone care what he did or where he was. And now he did.

Neither noticed Lust stopped reading.

Envy wrapped an arm around Desperate and he pulled him into a sitting position.

"All these magazines have potential artificial limbs for you. We pick one good enough, and then have them build it for you."

Desperate tilted his head.

"What for?"

"So you can walk around, of course."

Desperate frowned.

"Will it hurt?"

Lust closed her book. Envy hesitated.

"Well, it would only hurt for a little bit. Nothing like your stomach. And automail mechanics are often doctors as well. They can tell us why your stomach's hurting."

Desperate's face twisted into utmost despair.

"I don't want it to hurt! I don't want to hurt!"

Envy leaned back, startled. Desperate clutched the front of his brother's shirt, pleading. Lust stood up, her eyes wide.

"What's wrong with the way I am? I thought I got better! I don't want to hurt! I don't want to! I'll be good, I promise! I don't want to hurt!"

Envy grabbed Desperate's shoulders, the magazine falling out of his lap. He shook Desperate until he stopped crying.

"Just because it's going to hurt doesn't mean you've done anything wrong! It hurts everyone who gets it. That's because it's attaching itself to your nerves. It does that so your brain can control it so it'll be able to move. Being able to walk _will make your life better_. Understand?"

Desperate whimpered. Envy growled, then sighed as Desperate flinched.

Slowly, Lust lifted a hand and patted Desperate on the head. Both Envy and Desperate looked up at her.

"We'll make sure it hurts as little as possible. Okay, little brother?"

Desperate's eyes widened. Envy scowled at her. Lust settled herself onto the bed and picked up a magazine.

"So what should we be looking for in an automail mechanic?" she asked.

"Good anesthesia," Envy grumbled as he stuffed his nose into a magazine.

They poured over the magazines together, Envy and Lust showing each other their suggestions and finding things wrong with it. (Envy's favorite complaint was "it's hideous!" Lust's was "not practical.") Desperate silently watched, a small smile on his face. He'd occasionally look at the pictures, unable to discern good automail from crappy automail. Eventually, Desperate resorted to judging the quality of the product by the attractiveness of the maker. He quickly rooted out many male mechanics that way. All three of them were prepared to give up when Desperate's face lit up.

"Pretty," Desperate said, folding the magazine back so he could focus on the mechanic's picture better.

Envy raised an eyebrow as he leaned over Desperate's shoulder.

"The girl or the automail?" Lust asked. Desperate pointed at the girl's picture. Envy groaned. Lust took the magazine out of Desperate's hand and read the article more closely.

"Granddaughter-grandmother team . . . developed better anesthesia . . . better quality than Central mechanics . . . Capable of both practical and artistic designs . . . . Envy, I think we found them."

Envy rolled his eyes as Desperate's smile widened.

"What's her name and where does she live?" Envy drawled.

Lust tried to think of why the town sounded familiar.

"Pinako and Winry Rockbell. Risembool."

Envy's eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to speak but –

"Winry is a pretty name."

Lust and Envy both looked at him. Desperate took the picture back and stared at it . . . longingly?

"Think she's pretty nice?"

Envy gulped as he realized he didn't have a choice in the matter.

~!#$%^&*()_+

General Haruko smacked her across the cheek, but Rose refused to back down. Not after what Ed taught her.

"We're trying to help," General Haruko said.

Ha. What a laugh that was. She could almost hear Ed agreeing with her.

"You're not here to help, you're here for control. We don't need you. It's our desert village, not yours. We have legs, we'll get up and use them!"

Haruko gnashed his teeth together, reached out to grab her arm –

"General, sir?"

Haruko looked over his shoulder, surprise flashing across his face. Rose scooted away from him, keeping one eye on Haruko and the other on the new arrival. A dark-haired man in a military uniform stepped into the room, looking grim. A small boy hid behind him, fear etched onto his face. The man walked up to Haruko and didn't bow or salute like a normal subordinate. Rose would dare say he looked like, if Haruko said the wrong thing, he'd kill him.

"Colonel Mustang. This is a surprise."

Rose took note of the lack of gunshots, which had been in cacophony only moments before.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Central?"

"I was sent to investigate a kidnapping, which turned into a case of identity theft, water contamination, and murder."

The boy flinched at the word murder.

"So what brings you here?"

"This mess is Fullmetal's fault, isn't it?"

At the mention of Ed, Rose stood up and marched up to the colonel.

"Where is Edward?" she demanded.

The three looked at her. She stared defiantly back.

"Edward's not the kind of person to ignore what's happening here, and he certainly wouldn't condone it! So where is he? What did you bastards _do_ to him?"

General Haruko glared, the boy cringed, and the colonel lowered his head.

"Watch your mouth, whelp!" Haruko shouted.

Mustang shoved him.

Haruko stared at Mustang, incredulous. Mustang turned to the boy.

"Want to take that one, kid?"

The kid shook his head. Rose furrowed her eyebrows.

Mustang looked at her, and suddenly she felt like she didn't want to know.

"By Edward, you mean Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, correct?"

Rose nodded.

"Can you tell me how this situation happened?"

Rose took a deep breath, reminded herself of Ed's attitude.

"Edward came because he wanted to know if Prophet Cornello was using a Philosopher's Stone. I had been a devoted servant to the god Cornello claimed to communicate with, so he had me lead him around. Cornello sent other followers of his to capture Ed and Al, but Al managed to get away. They created a plan to expose Cornello as the fraud that he was, and succeeded. After that, they left."

Mustang hummed thoughtfully.

"Tell me, were you this courageous before Ed came here?"

Rose kept the small bit of pride that welled up out of her voice and expression.

"I always put my all in what I believe in. Ed just taught me something more tangible than fake gods."

Was that a nostalgic smile on his face?

"And what was that?"

She allowed herself a smirk as she gave her response.

"To not give up, no matter how bleak the outcome looks." She turned a glare onto Haruko. "His exact words were 'You have a good pair of legs, Rose, so get up and use them.' And I did." Her eyes swiveled back onto Mustang. "You still haven't told me what you've done to Ed – "

"- and why he isn't here?"

She refused to be taken aback by that.

The smile melted away into a frown.

"As far as I know, he wasn't aware anything bad was happening here. He died on his way to HQ to report and hadn't had any contact to any military information."

Rose gasped, eyes widening. It felt like the bottom of her stomach vanished. No. That couldn't be. Not Ed. He was so strong. . . .

She hardened her expression once more.

"Did the illness kill him?" she asked. Mustang's and the boy's head shot up. "Or did someone else?"

"How did you know he was ill?"

Tears pricked her eyes as she remembered Ed's face.

"Before he overthrew Cornello, he went to see the local doctor. He had a cough, so he hoped to get some medicine and continue on with what he was doing. I went with him. Al wasn't there because Ed told him to look into something, and he didn't want Al to worry about him. . . . The doctor wanted to make sure it was just a cough. . . . ."

_Ed's expression when he found out what it was. _

"And?" the boy encouraged.

Rose swallowed hard.

"The doctor said it wasn't treatable. And that it was lethal."

The horror on the colonel's face reminded Rose that even soldiers were human.

"Something about certain genetics making it more susceptible to some people, and how he must've caught it from someone he knew, possibly a relative. Ed had stormed out half way through the explanation."

The boy leaned against the wall, disbelief freezing his expression. Mustang looked like he'd lose his balance, too.

"But you haven't answered my question." Her expression hardened. "_What killed Edward_?"

Silence hung in the air as the colonel and boy wrapped their heads around the presented facts. The boy let out a sob. Mustang composed himself and closed his eyes.

"He was murdered by accident."

Rose furrowed her eyebrows.

"How can you be _murdered_ by _accident_?"

"Same way people accidentally run animals or people over with cars. Same way the Ishbal War started, with an Amestrian soldier accidentally shooting a child."

Rose grabbed the front of Mustang's uniform and forced him to look at her.

"_How did Edward die_?"

Haruko stepped towards them.

"You can't touch - !"

Mustang didn't even look at him as he snapped his fingers, a spark of fire flying from his fingers. Haruko caught fire, and his screams filled the otherwise quiet environment. Rose slowly turned her gaze onto the mass of burning flesh, then quickly looked back at Mustang. Suddenly, holding onto his uniform didn't sound like nearly as good an idea.

"Tell her, Fletcher."

Terror flitted across the boy's face, and he began to tremble. Mustang turned his eyes onto him, and Rose had never seen such unforgiving eyes before.

"Tell her."

Fletcher shook his head slowly.

"Trust me. You _don't_ want me to tell her."

Fletcher swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut.

"He – he drank water that had been contaminated by the chemical that my brother and I had been working on. . . . His last moments were spent puking blood."

Rose's eyes widened, a sudden image of blood dribbling down Edward's chin entered her mind. She shuddered.

The silence surrounding them afterwards was paramount. Rose found herself staring at the floor, barely registering that Haruko had burned to charred bone and ashes. Ed was dead. And he died painfully. With that cough, and then poison on top of it.

_Ed's body shuddered as he coughed violently into his right hand – the hand that she would later learn was his automail one. His eyes were vacant of tears, but brimming with misery and pain. _

"_I can't die, Rose. Al needs me. We have to – we have to make everything right before I die. We HAVE to. I'd never forgive myself if I died before I made it up to him. Not after Mom." _

"_Where do you think you got it?" _

_Ed shook his head. _

"_I don't want to think about it." _

Slowly, Mustang patted Rose on the shoulder. Rose jerked, startled. She looked up at him, and saw a heartbroken man.

"How well did you know Ed?"

"Uh . . . . I didn't know him for very long, but . . . he cared about what happened to me. He opened up to me when he didn't need to. . . ."

"You'd know what he'd do in a situation like Liore?"

Rose nodded, tears welling in her eyes.

"Good. You can help Fletcher. Fullmetal's responsibilities are his now. Thus, Liore is now his problem. You're to help him, in Ed's honor."

Rose looked at Fletcher, and smiled at him, more out of pity and stress than anything else. Fletcher nodded, tears rolling down his cheeks. Rose widened her smile slightly.

"Okay. I'll help. But first," Rose looked over her shoulder at the children huddled against the wall. "We'll need to get them to a safe place."

Mustang nodded, then held out his hand.

"Colonel Roy Mustang."

Rose took his hand and shook it firmly.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Desperate rested his head on Envy's shoulder as the train rumbled down the tracks. Envy stroked Desperate's hair, and faint smiles lingered on their lips. Lust ignored it for the most part. If she paid too much attention to it, she'd start feeling uneasy, her skin would start to crawl, her bones would chill, and she knew she'd try to do something to stop it. But what was she to do? Envy was formidable, and Desperate really needed someone who was willing to put forth the extra effort to take care of him. Lust wasn't prepared for that, and she didn't want to be Desperate's sole care-giver.

"Brother?"

Lust looked up to watch Envy stall in stroking Desperate's hair.

"Yes, little brother?" The smile creeped Lust out.

"What will we do after I have automail?"

Envy resumed the stroking of Desperate's hair.

"Well, there's some business that needs to be taken care of in Liore. Sloth says there are reports of the Flame being there, and we don't want him to get in the way of our plans. Then there's the alchemist killer. We'll need to determine if he's a threat or a tool. We also have to prepare Lab 5 for when Alphonse returns to Central to research the Stone."

"Um . . . . Okay . . . . Why?"

Envy chuckled.

"Oh yeah. I keep forgetting how little you know. We're working on making the Philosopher's Stone so we can become human again."

Desperate's eyes widened, and fear flashed in them. He trembled, and his jaw shook.

"What's the matter?" Lust asked, confusion flowing through both her and Envy.

Desperate shrunk into the train seat, and looked like he could cry. He shook his head, eyes tearing up.

"What's wrong?" Envy said, reaching out to hold him.

"That's why it hurts, isn't it?" he whispered.

Envy froze, his hand an inch from touching Desperate's face.

"He wanted to make me human, didn't he? But he couldn't and started crying, and that's why it hurts. Isn't it?"

Neither of them knew how to explain how it had nothing to do with being human, but being alive. The two just listened to him, honestly not knowing how to make him stop crying this time.

"Why be human when it hurts? Why not stay the way we are? What's wrong with it? I don't want to hurt. I don't! I don't want to! Don't make me please!" Tears turned to water falls, fear turned to terror, and he shook his head violently. Desperate grabbed the front of Envy's shirt again – what else could he do with one arm? "Don't make me! I'll be good! I'll be good! Just don't make me, I don't want to!"

Lust clasped a hand on Desperate's shoulder, snapping him out of it – again. Déjà vu occurred as Envy and Desperate looked at her.

Was this going to happen every time they talked to Desperate?

"You don't have to become human. But Sloth, Gluttony, Pride, Envy, and I want to. So we're working towards that goal. We'd like it if you helped."

"Why do you want to change when it hurts so much?"

"Do you honestly feel no empty space in your heart? That can only be filled by being a human?" Lust asked – almost pleading. The ache in her soul – or heart or whatever it was – was too much to bear. She couldn't imagine not wanting to be human.

Desperate shook his head and snuggled against Envy.

"There's an empty space, but Brother's filled some of it."

Lust and Envy gasped and just stared at Desperate the rest of the way, the unspoken words echoing in their minds.

_I just need a family._

~!#$%^&*()_+

Russell sat across from Al, his chin rested on his fist. While pretending to look out the window, he glanced at Al periodically. Al just sat there, looking like an immobile, lifeless suit of armor. It didn't help to know that there wasn't a body inside.

He cleared his throat. Al's helmet creaked.

"Want to talk? It's going to be a _long_ train ride otherwise. . . ."

Al lowered his head back to its original position.

"Sure."

Russell relaxed.

"Okay then. How'd you learn alchemy?"

Al shifted in his seat, memories of hovering over books with Ed floating to the forefront of his mind.

"Dad's books. . . ."

Russell attempted a smile.

"Me too. Dad taught Fletcher and me a little bit before he left. Fletcher's better at it, to be perfectly honest."

"My dad left soon after I was born. He left everything in his study, though." _Ed said he only took a small suitcase filled with clothes. . . . _

Russell's smile fell off.

"Oh. . . . Did your mom know any?"

_Ed's eyes as they glimmered with determination when they worked on bringing Trisha back to life. _

"No. But she liked it when we transmuted flowers for her."

_The wistful, pained, yet happy expression that would shine in Ed's eyes whenever he transmuted flowers after Trisha's death. _

Russell fidgeted, wishing Al had a face he could read.

"My mom liked it when we'd fix things around the house. Aside from that, she kind of wished we'd become fascinated in something else."

"Maybe she knew how you'd screw up."

The bottom of Russell's stomach disappeared, but he refused to let Al know how much that hurt. He hadn't _meant_ to kill anyone. Yeah, he had threatened Ed, but it was a bluff he knew he could pull off. His opposition had been a sickly midget, for God's sake! As long as Ed had gotten out of his way as easily as possible, he didn't care what he had to say to do it! That didn't make him a murderer who purposely went out to rob promising alchemists of their lives. Just because Ed _was_ dead, and that it _was _kind of his fault, _didn't_ give Al the right to say things like that.

Al sat silently, ignoring Russell for the most part. He didn't care if Russell cared about what he just said. He didn't care if Ed's death really was an accident. No, he couldn't think like that – but Ed would never leave him alone for so long. He had to admit it. . . . He _had_ to.

He just really didn't want to.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Winry could barely believe the group standing in her front yard, and she tried to tell herself that there was no way that boy being carried was Ed. Besides, Al wasn't with them. Ed would never return without Al. So who _were_ they? Cult members? It would explain the tattoos and outfits.

"This is the place for Rockbell automail, right?" the long haired . . . _person_ said. Winry honestly couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl.

"Yes, this is it," Pinako answered, the smoke from her pipe wafting into the air. "I presume it's for the blond?"

Said blond peeked from his helper's shirt, glanced at Pinako, then hid his face again. At least Winry thought it was a boy. She couldn't really tell that for certain, either. Poor thing was being carried in its helper's arms, holding onto the helper's neck with its left arm, and its right leg and stump of a left one desperately trying to circle the helper's waist.

"Yes," replied the busty woman beside them. "There's also a health issue we'd like to be solved. Desperate's been experiencing terrible pain in his stomach area."

Winry raised an eyebrow.

"What kind of a name is Desperate?" she asked.

The androgynous helper glared at her, and Pinako admonished her, but the woman smiled, and the blond peeked at her.

"I am Lust, and the one holding Desperate is Envy."

Well. That sort of explained it. They must have weird parents.

Winry looked back at Desperate and found herself returning his smile.

"Well, come on in. Let's try to get his measurements done by sundown." Winry said, beckoning them in.

In no time at all, Desperate sat on the couch, Winry and Pinako measuring the limbs he had left. Winry measured his left arm and didn't look up from it until she realized he was staring at her.

He smiled shyly, a blush gracing his cheeks.

"You're pretty," Desperate said, looking away from her.

Winry blushed.

"Thank you!"

A groan came from Envy, who was sprawled out on a bench. Lust chuckled, standing against the wall with her arms crossed. Winry glared at Envy, Pinako ignored him, and Desperate frowned.

"Brother?" Desperate whimpered.

Envy sighed.

"Yes?"

"Do you not like her?"

Envy opened his mouth to say something that, according to his expression, was decidedly not nice, but Lust cut him off.

"He's just tired, so ignore him."

Envy glared at Lust, but didn't bother to correct her.

Pinako hummed thoughtfully as she pulled her measuring tape away.

"That's odd."

"What is?" Winry asked.

"His limbs are the same lengths as Edward's."

Winry double-checked the lengths and whistled.

"Well, what do you know? It is! Ha, less work for us!" Winry grinned at Desperate. "We'll have you fixed in no time!"

Desperate's mouth twitched.

"W-will it hurt?"

Envy and Lust tensed. Winry rubbed the nape of her neck.

"It will a little bit, but we've got the best anesthesia around, so it'll be numbed down."

Desperate didn't relax any, but he wasn't freaking out. Envy let out a relieved sigh.

"We'll have the limbs ready in three days. You three can stay here until then. And we'll check out your stomach while you're waiting." Pinako explained.

Lust stepped away from the wall.

"Could you look at it now?"

"Don't see why not." Pinako turned to Desperate. "We'll need you to lie down."

Desperate slowly maneuvered himself so he was lying down; Winry had to help him somewhat. As he lay down, Winry was once again struck by how much he looked like Ed. It was startling, but all Winry had to do was remind herself that Ed had golden eyes, not purple, and the feeling went away.

Pinako furrowed her eyebrows, immediately noticing the problem.

"His stomach is concave."

Envy rolled his eyes.

"We _know_ that. Can you tell us _why_?"

Pinako clamped her pipe between her teeth and lightly touched Desperate's stomach. Desperate whined, gritting his teeth in pain. She pressed a little harder, and he yelped.

Envy jumped up and grabbed her wrists, snarling.

"We told you to find out what's wrong, not to hurt him!" Envy yelled.

Pinako looked at Envy gravely.

"Boy, you are not going to like this."

Desperate curled into a ball, and Winry's heart went out to him.

"What's that supposed to mean!?"

Pinako looked back at Desperate.

"Young man, to what extent does it hurt? Just your stomach, or everything below your ribcage and above your pelvis?"

Desperate whimpered an affirmative to the latter.

"_Damn._" Pinako said.

"What!? _What is it_!?" Envy demanded.

Pinako took the pipe out of her mouth.

"Your brother is missing many of his internal organs, that's what."


	7. Chapter 7

Red Roses2:

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. It belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.

!#$%^&*()_+~

The ground shook as Envy pounded it repeatedly, the crater getting deeper and deeper. All he could hear were that hag's words. And _her_ words. About the organs being used as alchemic materials. They echoed in his head, bumped into each other and tried to drown each other out.

No organs. Desperate didn't have most of his fucking organs. But why? Why didn't they use them for materials? What did they get in exchange? What the hell did _Desperate_ get in exchange? Nothing. Nothing but pain. And what the hell were they planning to do to him afterwards, huh? Why couldn't they have just left his little brother alone!?

Lust stood at the edge of the crater, frowning down at him.

"Envy."

He glared at her.

"What?"

Lust's eyes dulled.

"Your hissy fit is causing the Rockbell house to shake. It's causing him pain."

Envy immediately stopped attacking the hard ground.

"Tch. . . ! Damn it!"

Envy climbed out of the crater, dirt digging under his fingernails. He stood beside Lust, fists shaking.

"It's not fair! First those bastards create us, and it's bad enough they abandon us, but they had to go and - !"

Lust bowed her head.

"Envy."

He glanced at her, gnashing his teeth together. He raised an eyebrow at her expression.

"What is it?"

"You need to come back to the house."

Envy continued to look confused as he followed her down the hill to the Rockbell house. Lust opened the front door, and sobs reached Envy's ears. Envy shoved Lust out of the way, and his eyes widened at the sight before him.

Desperate was curled up on the couch, knee firmly pressed to his chest, face buried in Winry's lap. Winry stroked his hair, and her frown curved upward as she looked up at Envy.

"It's okay, your brother's back now, see?" Winry comforted, pulling Desperate's bangs out of his face.

Desperate looked up as best he could from his position, eyes red but relief washed over him as he recognized Envy. He pushed himself up out of Winry's lap and even tried to stand on his one leg. Winry panicked and grabbed onto him as he lost his balance.

"Careful!" Winry said.

Envy watched, solely focused on the relief in Desperate's eyes and the need to be with his 'brother' on such display. A heavy, but warm, feeling settled in his chest. He crossed the room and sat down on the couch. Desperate quickly did the same, Winry sighing in relief.

Envy gave him a look.

"What's up with you now?"

Desperate rested his head on Envy's shoulder.

"You didn't say you'd be coming back. . . ."

Envy stared at him in disbelief, then looked at Lust for confirmation.

Lust nodded. Envy groaned.

"I didn't mean to upset you, I was just pissed off."

Desperate peered up at him, not lifting his head off Envy's shoulder.

"At who?"

Envy wrapped an arm around Desperate's shoulders, gritting his teeth as he remembered Desperate didn't recall a thing from before he knew him.

"The bastards who did this to you. They'll pay dearly, don't you worry." Envy grinned sadistically. Lust sighed. Pinako narrowed her eyes, and Winry raised an eyebrow. Desperate only nuzzled Envy's neck, not understanding what his brother was talking about. But if it made Envy feel better, who was he to complain?

Winry swallowed hard as the image of Desperate cuddling up to Envy like that reminded her of Ed and Al. Though the last time she had seen them cuddling hadn't been quite as . . . .

_Ed clung to Al's armored body, arm and leg missing. He wailed through gritted teeth and rubbed his face harshly against the cool metal. _

"_I'm sorry, Al! I'm so sorry!" _

_Al touched Ed's shoulder. _

"_Careful, Brother. You'll hurt yourself." _

_Ed sobbed. "I was so wrapped up in wanting Mom back, I didn't pay attention to what I had! I'm sorry!" _

"_It wasn't just you, Ed. It was me, too. You don't have to apologize to me." _

_Ed's body trembled, his stump leg slipping dangerously close to the edge of the bed. _

"_I should've listened to you. I should've! What kind of a brother am I?" _

"_That's enough, Ed. Please. Let's just try to move forward, okay?" _

"_I'll make it up to you! I promise!" _

The next morning, Ed had demanded automail.

Desperate opened his eyes, and she reminded herself that Ed wasn't there right now.

!#$%^&*()_+

Hawkeye sat on the train, alone, not bothering to look out the window. She stared at the empty seat in front of her, thinking about where Mustang might be. He hadn't called her. He hadn't called Hughes since he informed him of the papers Fletcher and Russell had signed. All she knew was that Mustang had lied about going to East HQ and that he took Fletcher with him. Hughes couldn't even hazard a guess as to where Mustang was.

Hawkeye held her head, eyes dry but heart heavy.

Did he not trust her anymore? Why didn't he tell her where he was going? Why didn't he ask her to come with him? Was he really in so much pain that he couldn't open up to her?

In the opposite direction of the train's course, Mustang surveyed the town of Leore from a bedroom window in the former temple. Rose stood next to him, pointing out certain landmarks and informing him about what the military had been doing in Ed's absence. Mustang's jaw tightened as the stories became darker and darker.

Fletcher sat in a chair against the wall, every word Rose said echoing in his ears.

He was supposed to fix all the damage? All that death and destruction? That anger and turmoil? Where – how – why - ?

Why couldn't Ed be here? To tell him what to do?

Wait. Ed? He had barely known Ed. Why . . . ?

He must've meant Russell. Yeah, that was it.

Russell. His own big brother.

Not someone else's.

Russell would know what to do.

Fletcher stood up as Rose motioned for him to follow her. He walked after her, Ed's pocket watch dangling from his belt. They walked in silence until Rose turned around and smiled weakly at him.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

Fletcher shrugged.

"I miss my brother. He's probably worried. . . . Wish he was here . . . ."

Rose nodded.

"A war zone can be a scary place when you're on your own. But you have me for now, so we'll have to make due."

He knew she wanted him to be Ed. So he nodded, sucked it up, and went out into the mess known as Leore.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Russell slammed his fists upon the desk and cursed loudly. Al stood silently beside him, temporarily reminded of how Ed would act if he had no idea where Al was. He banished the thought.

Russell was nothing like Ed. Ed was stronger. Smarter. Ed deserved the state alchemist pocket watch.

The chain of Russell's pocket watch beat lightly against Russell's thigh as he hit the desk once more.

"Where the hell is Mustang!? _Where'd he take my little brother!?_"

The woman behind the desk gave him a pitying look and touched his hand. Russell looked up, angry tears pricking at his eyes.

"We'll inform you as soon as we learn Colonel Mustang's whereabouts. Just hold tight for now, all right?"

Russell bowed his head and shut his eyes tightly.

Al stood beside him, not moving to comfort him or saying anything. A part of him really, truthfully, thought that Russell deserved this.

Then an image of Ed sobbing over failing Al entered his head, and he couldn't believe he could be so horrible.

But he couldn't make himself reach out and pat Russell on the shoulder.

He couldn't comfort his brother's murderer.

Even if the murder had been an accident.

Even if Ed would be angry with him, if he were still there.

Even if Ed wouldn't said something comforting.

He just couldn't.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Smoke wafted into the air from Pinako's pipe as she clenched it in her teeth. Den lay at her feet, sending furtive glances at the strange visitors. Desperate and Envy slept on the couch, curled up with one another, Desperate's head laying on Envy's hest and Envy's fingers lost in Desperate's hair.

They looked more like lovers than brothers, in Pinako's opinion.

Winry slept upstairs in her bed, leaving Pinako and Lust with only each other for company.

Lust watched Envy and Desperate, a concerned frown on her face.

"Do they do that often?" Pinako asked.

Lust hugged her elbows.

"I'm sot sure what it means. Desperate just wants attention."

Pinako blew smoke rings up towards the ceiling.

"What about Envy?"

Lust shrugged. Pinako hummed thoughtfully.

"Desperate looks a lot like a boy I know."

Lust tensed.

"And I used to have a drinking buddy who talked a lot about alchemy, monsters created from human transmutation, and strange tattoos."

Lust lifted her eyes up to Pinako's. Pinako lowered her pipe.

"I was wondering if there was a connection. Ms. Homunculus."

They stared at each other for a long moment.

_Shink – splick! _

Den barked. Pinako's blood cascaded onto the floor, her pipe clattering on the hardwood. Lust tore her blade-like fingers through the old lady's chest and sliced through Den's head, silencing her.

Envy cracked an eye open, examined the damage, and smirked. He resumed stroking Desperate's hair. Desperate purred in his sleep, but didn't wake.

Thumps from upstairs alerted the two homunculi of Winry's waking.

Winry ran down the stairs.

"Grandma, what - ?"

Winry gasped, frozen, Lust's razor-sharp fingers grazing both sides of her neck. Lust stared into the girl's fear-tinged eyes.

"You're to build Desperate's automail. No exceptions."

Envy chuckled darkly, his lips curling into an evil grin. A small smile graced Desperate's lips, the blond blissfully unaware of murder, only conscious of the nice feeling of his brother's chest thrumming.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Hawkeye knocked on the Rockbell front door, the sun rising in the sky. She furrowed her eyebrows as she remembered there used to be a dog that would greet visitors.

_Ed's grin as he spoke about Risembool. Den's a great guard dog, but she's also as sweet as any dog can be. She'd beat Black Hayate any day. _

Slowly, the front door creaked open. Dark eyes peered at her. Hawkeye narrowed her eyes.

"Is Winry or Pinako Rockbell here?"

The woman beyond the door was silent for a long moment.

"No. They took a trip to Rusk Valley for an automail contest. I'm watching their house while they're gone. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I have an important message for them. It's urgent."

The woman was quiet for a while more.

"They haven't called to give me their hotel's number yet. You'll have to go to Rush Valley if it's that urgent."

Hawkeye nodded, sighing internally.

"Thank you. Goodbye."

Lust closed the door without replying. Winry didn't dare look over into the other room. She concentrated on the automail, nervous sweat rolling down her face and trickling down her neck. Envy leaned over Winry's shoulder, leering at the steel she was working with.

Desperate sat, hugging his sides in an attempt to will away the pain. He wore a pitiful smile as the pain stabbed at him with greater intensity that it did the day before.

The corpses had been disposed of long before Desperate woke up.

Tink, tink, squeak, squeak, chok, chok, wring, wring, and Winry couldn't stop thinking about how Lust had killed her grandmother, for no apparent reason.

Envy struck terror into her with one small statement.

"It better be good automail."


	8. Chapter 8

Red Roses2: Last chapter was 8 pages. This one is nine pages.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. It belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.

!#$%^&*()_+~

Desperate gritted his teeth as Winry prepped the automail. Winry glanced nervously at Envy and Lust. Envy snarled at her. Winry squeaked and went back to the automail.

"I've given you as much anesthetic as I can give safely. It'll still hurt a little bit, but it won't last long, okay?" Winry said, her voice wavering.

Desperate nodded, then said, "Where's your grandmother?"

Winry flinched, then whimpered, her lip trembling. Concern floated over Desperate's face. Despite Winry's orders not to, he sat up and reached his flesh hand to her face. He gently brushed a tear away.

"Does something hurt?"

"Just let her attach the automail, Desperate," Lust said.

"I don't want her to hurt," Desperate protested. His words made Winry's heart ache even more. He didn't even know - !

"It's her job to build automail, not bore us with a sob story," Envy snapped.

Winry stiffened, anger flashing in her eyes. She hated him, possibly more than she hated Lust.

"But Brother - !"

"I'm fine," Winry said, her voice neutral. No, she would not let those monsters have the satisfaction. She couldn't let them win. Not after what they did to her, to her grandmother and dog. To Ed and Al.

Desperate tilted his head, his hair shimmering in the lamplight. She refused to look at him.

"Lay back down, or it won't hook up right."

Desperate did as told, and she inserted the automail arm.

"Ready?"

Desperate nodded.

Winry twisted her wrench, and a pained whimper escaped Desperate's throat, his eyes widening, his teeth clenching.

Winry let the pain abate before hooking up his leg.

Desperate arched up, his scream strangling itself deep in his throat, sweat rolling down his neck.

"There." Winry said, setting her wrench aside. "You should rest for at least an hour before leaving." She glared at Envy and Lust. "Will you pay in cash or simply spare my life?"

Envy and Lust stared at her for a moment. Envy chuckled. Winry furrowed her eyebrows.

"Stupid girl, we're paying you with room and board."

She stared at him. He stared back, his lips curling into the most evil smirk she had ever seen.

The meaning of those words sunk in, and Winry gasped, stepping away from them.

"You really didn't think we'd chance never seeing you again, did you?" Lust asked, her expression cold, unfeeling. Like she had no heart or soul. Like she was completely apathetic.

"Who else would fix it if it broke?" Envy added, advancing on her, the gleam in his eyes proof that he'd enjoy her misery too much.

Winry didn't have the chance to scream before she blacked out.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Hawkeye couldn't believe she had been so stupid.

She should have insisted on searching the house.

She should have insisted on talking to Winry or Pinako.

She should have done something different!

There _was_ no automail competition. If she knew anything about automail, she'd have known they had those in early spring, not the middle of summer.

She shoved coins into the pay phone and dialed the military number.

"Put me in contact with Lieutenant Colonel Hughes! This is Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye!"

And affirmative, then a click, and –

"Hawkeye?"

"Hughes, send me a unit!"

"What? Why? Where are you?"

"I was tricked into going to Rush Valley – something wrong is going on at the Rockbell house! I need a unit and a search warrant!"

"Okay, but tell me what you think is going on."

"Someone is either holding the Rockbells hostage or killed them. My money is on hostage."

"I'll send a unit out as soon as I can. They'll meet you in Risembool."

"Thank you. Good bye."

"Good luck."

Hawkeye hung up and ran to the train station. She hoped she wasn't too late.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Winry woke to a soft prodding, and when she opened her eyes, she thought it was Ed hovering over her. Oh, she hoped it was Ed. Ed would know what to do. She was so scared. Ed would protect her, Ed would know what to do, even if he didn't know what was going on, he'd never let anyone hurt her, or Al, or Grandma, or Den. Ed would know what to do, Ed would help her. Even the whispery voice sounded a bit like Ed.

"Are you all right?"

Then Winry realized the eyes were the wrong color. Ed's eyes were gold, not amethyst.

She had never felt so cheated.

The memories of Lust killing Pinako and Envy kidnapping her flooded back, along with tears that rolled down her cheeks before she could stop them.

She let out a gut-wrenching sob and buried her face into her hands.

Desperate touched her shoulders gently, his frown etched so deeply one would think he was the one who lost someone dear.

"What's wrong?"

Winry ignored him, unable to blame him or disassociate him from what had happened. He was oblivious to what his so-called family was going, but he was the one who brought them to her home. She wanted to blame him – she hated to admit it, but she did. It, inadvertently, was his fault. But it wasn't really his fault. It wouldn't be fair to blame him, this crippled, hurt boy before her. This boy who had a constant pain in his gut, like the pain in her heart would become.

"Can I make it better?" She almost didn't register the keen hopeful reflection at the end of the question.

Winry shook her head violently, her body shaking, feeling a need to move but too weak to.

Slowly, as though he wasn't sure how, Desperate wrapped his arms around Winry. She sobbed into his chest, sharply remembering how this was how it felt the last time Ed had hugged her – the cool automail contrasting with his flesh arm, his chest well-built and firm, his shirt soft and durable.

Winry hiccupped and fisted some of Desperate's shirt, only realizing belately that she should touch his stomach area. Desperate whimpered, but he didn't tell her to let go or that it hurt.

"I miss Grandma. And Ed and Al."

She didn't know why she was telling him. Perhaps because she didn't have anyone else. She wished Ed was there.

Desperate stroked her hair with his flesh hand, the way Envy did with his hair.

"Where are they?"

Winry sniffed.

"Grandma's dead. I haven't heard from Ed or Al in a long time. Last I heard, they were in the military's eastern headquarters."

Desperate furrowed his eyebrows, flashes of – memories? Or fantasies? – running through his head. A boy covered in someone else's blood, a suit of armor, a man with dark hair and white gloves, a coal mine – or was it a gold mine? – a woman with a necklace that did alchemy –

Then the images faded away to nothing.

Desperate hesitated a moment, trying to grasp the meaning behind the images, but he soon forgot about them, figured they weren't important, decided he'd just ask Envy about it later, focused on the crying girl in his arms.

"How did she die?"

Winry bit her lip, wondering just how much about this boy's family she should reveal. Did she really feel like unearthing the open wound in her heart so soon like that? Was she really such a horrible person to destroy his opinion of them? What if it turned out he was just as apathetic as they were?

"Murdered."

That would just have to do. As much as she hated Lust for it, she just couldn't talk about it. Not to this boy.

Desperate nuzzled Winry's neck. Winry stiffened, then more tears flowed.

"I'm sorry. . . ." A faint concept of a womanly – motherly? – figure floated in the back of his mind – a pretty woman with long brown hair and kind eyes, holding a small, crying boy with her eyes. "What would your grandma do when you're sad?"

Winry pulled away from him and tried to dry her eyes. She wiped her nose, then rubbed her hand against her jeans.

"Grandma always baked something whenever I or Ed or Al was sad when we were little. . . ." More tears pricked her eyes.

What was she supposed to tell Ed and Al if she ever saw them again? That, in addition to having been abandoned by their father and failing to bring their mother back to life, they and she had lost a grandmother? Ed and Al may not be her real brothers, but they were part of her family, and she knew that Pinako's death would cut them apart just like it was her. When Al got his body back, he'd never – none of them would ever again - !

Desperate stood up and held a hand out to her. He smiled at her.

"Come on."

Winry took his hand, honestly not knowing what else to do. She felt so lost, so weak, so lonely. Only when she stood did she notice her surroundings. They were in a poorly lit bedroom, with garish décor but decent color coordination. Desperate led her into and down a hall (equally as dark and poorly decorated) and down a flight of stairs. He stumbled and wrapped an arm around his waist, but he kept smiling and didn't mention anything about the pain she knew he felt. He brought her into what was a poor excuse of a kitchen. It had the tiniest stove Winry had ever seen, no table and few countertops. The upper walls were covered with cabinets, however, cabinets that looked like they were bursting with . . . whatever they were filled with.

Desperate tried to reach a cabinet, but he was too short. He extended himself as far as he could, but Winry could tell his stomach area was punishing him for it. Sweat rolled down his forehead at the exertion, and his smile became more strained. He tried to turn a pained whimper into a grunt of frustration, but failed. Winry swallowed hard, reminded of Ed . . . and Den.

"I'll open it," she said, unable to take watching it anymore. "What are you looking for?"

Desperate hugged his sides in an attempt to lessen the pain. He grinned at her.

"Whatever will make you happy again."

Winry halted and looked at him. A blush covered his cheeks, and he looked away from her.

"You're prettier when you're happy . . . and I don't want you to hurt."

Winry felt like crying all over again, but not over herself or her grandmother.

She threw her arms around Desperate and hugged him tightly. They stood there like that for a long moment, then she pulled away.

"Thank you," she said.

She'd never forgive Envy or Lust, but maybe Desperate could be her friend. Maybe they'd escape together. Maybe Desperate would realize what was going on and not be too heart-broken over it. Maybe . . . maybe . . . .

Maybe she was just trying to fill the hole in her heart.

Desperate smiled at her, a simple thank you obviously bringing him much joy.

As the two clattered around in the kitchen, Winry distracting herself from her dilemma and Desperate happy to cheer her up, they failed to notice Envy stopping in the doorway, his stare darkening by the minute. He watched as Desperate tugged at Winry's jacket sleeve, gave her that adoring smile, that admiring look that was supposed to be directed only at _him_. He watched as that stupid girl failed to fake a smile bright enough to make Desperate just _stop_, making Desperate continue to fawn over her, try to _comfort_ her. She was a damn human, for God's sake! He was supposed to hate her, not like her! She was just a human! Humans were nothing but scum, the banes of their existence! Humans were useless, good-for-nothing, chaotic, destructive, hideous, vile, UNDESERVING OF THAT ATTENTION THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE GIVEN TO HIM, AND HIM ALONE! Envy stepped forward, raising his fist, but a hand patted his shoulder. He looked over his shoulder and scowled, but he let her drag him away.

"Let him delude himself for a little while," his mother said, a condescending smile on her face. "She'll realize what he is and be repulsed soon enough."

Envy growled, smacked her hand away, and stormed off. He needed to get back to Leore _anyway_. Flame was screwing up at it was. But _damn_ that girl! Desperate was _his_ brother, not hers! His, damn it, _his_! His, his, HIS! HIS BROTHER! DESPERATE'S ATTENTION WAS SOLELY HIS AND HIS ALONE! HIS, NOT HERS, HIS! NOT HERS, NOT LUST'S, NOT ANYONE ELSE'S! ONLY – _ONLY –_ HIS!

The door almost broke free of its hinges as Envy kicked it open.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Gluttony sniffed the air as Lust leaned against the wall, glancing at her watch. Gluttony poked his lower lip with his index finger.

"Sloth's late," Lust said, crossing her arms again.

Gluttony grunted and continued to sniff. Lust lifted her gaze.

"Something wrong?"

A grin split Gluttony's face.

"I smell the blood of an Ishbalan!"

Lust smirked.

"Is it Scar?"

"Who else would it be?"

"I suppose you're right."

Gluttony looked at Lust, complete and utter ecstasy glowing from his eyes.

"Can I eat him?"

"Not yet. We need to talk to Sloth first."

Gluttony's eyes dimmed. He sighed, plopped himself down, and proceeded to look dejected.

Farther in town, Scar trailed behind a state alchemist and his armored companion. Though, if Scar was to be completely honest, he wasn't sure if the pocket watch was really a state certification. If this tall blond _was_ a state alchemist, he must've been just recruited. No uniform or identifiable qualities. He just needed the two to say something to confirm his suspicious, then he'd blow the man's brains out. It was God's will.

_His brother's eyes as he said that, to bring her back, Ishbal must fall. _

Scar narrowed his eyes considerably, his determination strengthening.

The blond sat down on a bench and held his head. The armored companion halted and watched. The blond's shoulders shook and, though Scar heard nothing, sparkling tears fell from his bowed head and hit the ground.

Scar moved to hide behind a telephone pole and strained his ears for words.

"When will they hear news? When will that bastard give Fletcher back?" A tortured sob escaped the blond's throat.

Scar narrowed his eyes. What was this about?

The armored man hesitated, then spoke.

"Brother didn't like Mustang very much, but Colonel Mustang cared a lot for him. . . . Considering the circumstances, he wouldn't go against Ed's wishes. He won't hurt your brother."

The blond looked up, eyes wide in surprise. Scar knew that the armored man hadn't said a word since . . . at least since Scar started tailing them. And the blond must not have expected him to say anything like that. . . . Whatever it meant.

Scar bent his head down as he analyzed the armored man's words. He gave it quite a bit of thought, and then a possible solution occurred to him.

Scar raised an eyebrow. Colonel Mustang, the Flame Alchemist? Ed as in Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist?

He couldn't hear anything other than that, and the two continued on back to their hotel. Scar continued to trail them, careful to make sure neither noticed him.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Desperate shrunk in his seat as the mean woman leaned in. Winry stood behind his chair, her hands gripping the back of the chair, her knuckles turning white.

"Desperate, you don't want to stay here all by yourself, do you?"

Desperate swallowed hard and whispered, "I have Winry."

Winry did nothing to back him up, but kept her eyes on the somehow intimidating old woman before them.

"Oh, don't misunderstand. Winry will be going with you." Winry tensed at the look the woman sent her. It reminded her of Envy. "But surely you want to help Lust in the East?"

Desperate frowned.

"What about Brother?"

"Envy's fine. You'd just get in his way."

He flinched.

"Besides, you want to meet Sloth and Pride, don't you?"

Desperate bowed his head.

"Pride brought the Red Water, right?" he asked.

Winry raised an eyebrow. Red Water? What was that?

"That's right. Don't you want to thank him?"

Desperate didn't respond. The woman smirked.

"Envy would want you to be useful."

He looked up at her, eyes wide and looking for confirmation.

"He'd _want_ you to help Lust and the others."

Winry's grip on the chair tightened. What a manipulating - !

Desperate bowed his head again, his lips pressing into a pained frown.

"O-okay. I'll go."

Dante's smirk widened.


	9. Chapter 9

Red Roses2: This chapter is 11 pages. Should I up the rating? This story is starting to get pretty bloody. . . .

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. It belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.

!#$%^&*()_+~

The dusty square ran rampant with foreign greenery. Vines crawled up the former wine fountain, flowers sprung up in front of homes and shops, grass squeezed in between the rocky roads, and the town of Leore looked like a real paradise among the desert sand. Rose patted Fletcher on the back. He looked up at her and gave her an exhausted smile.

"It's the best I can do right now." Fletcher said.

"It's beautiful," Rose replied. "The first step in the right direction."

Fletcher stood up, then his knees wobbled and he almost fell over. Rose grabbed his arm and led him back to the former temple. Now, Fletcher supposed, it was the military base in Leore. Now that Mustang was there.

Mustang was handling the complicated political stuff while Fletcher and Rose did their best to fix the town itself. Fletcher had a feeling Mustang knew how much Ed meant to this town. Every person he talked to said that Ed was who gave them strength. Even if they had actually never met him. Through Rose, Ed taught them to stand up for themselves, to think for themselves. To stand on their own two feet, no matter how bleak things looked.

Fletcher felt like Mustang knew how much their words would twist in his gut like a knife, bringing the image of Ed spitting blood and the decrepit _thing_ that was supposed to be him.

Fletcher wished Ed was still alive, so he could hear how he had inspired and essentially led Leore, but he was glad to know that pitiful replacement was dead. He could still hear the only thing it said before its speech deteriorated into nothing but the baa of a bird.

"_Why?"_

Rose led him into what was to be his bedroom for a while. The window no longer had glass, but rose pink curtains hung over it. The bed was modest – made of cheap wood and covered with cheaper sheets – and the only other furniture was a small desk and a stool.

He lay down on the bed, his eyes drooping. He had used too much alchemy today . . . .

Rose sat down on the edge of the bed, pressing her palms against the mattress. She stayed quiet for a long while, Fletcher slowly drifting into slumber.

"Was he happy?" she asked.

"Huh?"

Fletcher pushed himself onto his elbows and blinked rapidly. Rose hung her head, her bangs covering her eyes.

"Ed. Did he die happy?"

Fletcher's eyes widened, and he wasn't tired anymore. He sat up straight, crossed his legs, and gripped his ankles.

_Ed's blood trickled down his chin. "L-last thing I promise. Please tell Al I'm sorry for being so pathetic. For failing him." His eyes glistened with tears, but blood flew from his mouth, splattering on Fletcher's chest, and his life slipped away before he could shed a tear. _

Tears weld in his own eyes.

"No . . . he didn't . . . ."

Rose gripped the edge of the bed tightly. Fletcher bowed his head. They sat there silently, sorrow washing over Rose and nightmares swallowing Fletcher up.

A knock intruded on their silence, and neither were sure if they were grateful or not.

Mustang opened the door. His eyes widened as he spotted Rose.

"Yes, Colonel?" Fletcher asked.

Whatever Mustang was there for was apparently forgotten. Mustang slowly pointed at Rose, confusion etched on his face.

"If you're here, who did I ask to check up on those children"

The three stared at each other for a long moment, then they hurried to the building they had dubbed the Nursery.

Sickening sounds and screams shook the air as they reached the Nursery. Rose grabbed the doorknob and threw open the door.

She gasped.

Fletcher's jaw dropped, his lips moving in a silent scream.

Mustang's eyes widened.

Two children huddled in a corner, cowering. Blood bathed the room, child corpses littering the floor. The murderer slowly turned around, his black boots making squishing sounds. The fronts of his leather pants and short jacket were splattered with blood, and he sported a demented smile on his face, like he enjoyed nothing more than their interruption.

"I was wondering if you'd catch me, Colonel," spoke the murderer in a torturously familiar voice. "You even brought the Trigham boy with you."

His blond bangs curtained over his golden eyes, but he ran a bloodied hand through them, automail glinting in the sunlight, blood marring the golden locks.

Edward Elric stood among the blood and gore of slain children, his hands dirtied and that horrifying grin on his face.

Rose stepped back and Mustang shielded her. Instinctively, he raised his hand, fingers prepped to snap. Edward laughed.

"But Colonel, aren't you glad to see me? I'm the one who made this town part of the military's control, after all."

"Edward's dead!" Mustang shouted. "Stop playing these games! Who are you!?"

Edward hunched his shoulders and pouted.

"What a horrible thing to say about your best subordinate. And after all that crap you gave me about my height and everything."

Fletcher, without thinking, took a step forward. His mouth trembled in terror, but the images of the hideous corpse spurred him on.

"Ed – ward?" Fletcher asked.

Edward looked at him, his mouth twisting into a smirk.

"The – the transmutation worked?"

Edward froze, the smirk twitching. Slowly, he tilted his head towards Fletcher.

"Human transmutation, right?"

Fletcher nodded, then a thought occurred to him.

"B-but . . . if you're Ed . . ." Fletcher's eyes widened even more. ". . . then what was the body that I used to freshen the - ?"

Fletcher screamed as automail morphed to flesh and fingers wrapped around his throat, blond hair darkening to black and lengthening, falling out of its braid, gold eyes turning violet. The stranger forced his face close to Fletcher's teeth bared.

"_You're_ the one who did that to him!? YOU'RE THE ONE WHO TRANSMUTED HIS INSIDES!?"

Fletcher couldn't breathe, his lungs burned, and his throat felt like it was crushing –

The stranger yelled in pain, flames engulfed Fletcher's vision, and his neck was released.

Fletcher gasped for air and coughed. He barely noticed Rose grabbing him and pulling him to the door. Mustang strode inside, snapping his fingers, flames dancing from his hands to the murderer, his jaw taut and his eyes blazing. Rose led Fletcher and the two survivors to the temple, the Nursery going up in flames.

Rose looked back to see Mustang escaping the burning building, and she gasped as the murderer crashed through the burning roof, landed on the ground, then proceeded to run, the flames dying and his body rejuvenating. Mustang ran after him, taking out his gun.

Mustang chased the murderer throughout Leore. The murderer made a sharp turn, Mustang turned, then dodged a blade that would have sliced his head open otherwise. Mustang pulled the trigger and –

BANG!

The murderer stumbled backwards, his face exploding, blood spraying everywhere.

The murderer shrieked, ran at him, his face morphed back to normal, and he lunged.

Mustang kicked him in the stomach and snapped his fingers again, the scent of burning flesh infecting his senses.

The murderer lunged at him again, while still afire, and Mustang darted out of the way. The murderer tumbled into the sand, the flames extinguishing, and then he rolled away from Mustang.

This wasn't going well on either side. One couldn't die, and the other was ruining the plan.

The murderer let out a yell and pounded the desert ground as hard as he could. Sand jumped into the air, obscuring Mustang's vision. Mustang coughed and shut his eyes tightly, sand making his eyes burn. Even when he heard the sand resettle, he couldn't open his eyes right away.

The murderer got away, was all that Mustang could gather once he opened his eyes once more. He gritted his teeth and cursed under his breath.

Who – or what – the hell was that?

~!#$%^&*()_+

Envy threw himself into his seat, ignoring the passing scenery. That ugly, stupid, inferior, horrible, detestable _human!_ How _dare_ that bastard! So Fletcher Trigham was the one who transmuted Desperate! _He _was the one who transmuted his insides! That BASTARD!

He had to see Desperate, tell him they'd _kill_ the damn human soon, comfort him, help him get _revenge_, hold him, make the bastard pay Desperate back in flesh – had to get Desperate away from the damn human girl, before she screwed him up further. Envy had to protect him from those filthy, arrogant, selfish humans! He had to – no one else would! No one else knew how special Desperate was, how much he deserved the best, how adorable he looked when he looked up at Envy with those trusting eyes –

That was right. Desperate was his, and his alone. No one could take him away from him.

He wouldn't let them.

Envy relaxed into the chair, finally calming down.

Now, what would the best course of revenge be?

~!#$%^&*()_+

Mustang slammed Fletcher into a chair and gripped the arms.

"What the hell were you talking about when you said you used a body to refresh Al's blood seal!? _What the hell does that mean!?_"

Fletcher gulped and squeezed his eyes shut.

"It – it means Ed asked me to!"

Silence hung in the air, Fletcher able to feel Mustang's breath on his face.

"What do you mean?" Quieter. Softer. Almost depressed. Like he wanted a reason to be angry with Fletcher.

"Before Ed died, he told me how to refresh Al's blood seal so I could take proper care of Al. He said he had exchanged his arm for the seal to work. He – he didn't want me to sacrifice myself since – since he wouldn't need his body anymore. . . ."

Tears rolled down Fletcher's cheeks. Mustang let go of the chairs arms. The colonel fell to his knees and hung his head. They were quiet for a moment, as though afraid to break the somber silence.

"Who was that?" Fletcher asked.

Mustang shook his head.

"I have no idea. . . . What do you think he was talking about?"

Fletcher shrugged.

The silence stretched out further. Mustang stood up slowly and raised his head.

"We should probably go to East HQ. Report what happened."

"Yeah."

Fletcher pushed himself out of the chair.

"And we'll have to give you a military name. Officially, anyway."

"Officially?"

"I've already given you one. The Fuhrer just needs to approve it."

The conversation was a distraction. Nothing more. But Fletcher was a little curious. . . . What kind of name would a man who pretty much detested him would pick out? Would it be fair? Would it be what he deserved? Would Fletcher even be able to tell the answer to that last question?

"What is it?"

Flame was Flame because of fire. Fullmetal because of the automail. Strong Arm because of his strength. So what in the world would a little boy be named?

"The Eden Alchemist."

Eden. Garden of Eden. Because of the plants he gave to Leore?

Or because he tried to play God?

~!#$%^&*()_+

Hawkeye oversaw the burial of Pinako Rockbell and the dog. They had found them stuffed in a closet, caked in blood and smelling like rotting fish. Winry was still no where to be found. She didn't know what that meant.

She stepped into the Rockbell house once the burial was complete and dialed the military number.

"This is Lieutenant Hawkeye. Connect me with Lieutenant Colonel Hughes."

Hawkeye stared at the floorboards as she waited.

"Hawkeye?"

"Pinako and the dog are dead. Winry's missing, as is the woman who tricked me."

"Damn."

"What should I do now?"

"Come to East HQ. We'll file a missing person's report. Also, did you hear? Roy's coming back."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and Fletcher's still in one piece. There's only one problem with that."

"What?"

"Scar's supposed to have been cited here."

Hawkeye's breath caught in her throat.

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thanks. See you."

"Bye."

Hawkeye hung up and went to gather her unit.

The sun shone in mockery of her dampened spirit. But rain would have only made it worse.

Maybe it was a good thing Edward was dead.

That way he'd never feel pain over the loss of some of the only family he had had left.

Hawkeye wasn't sure if she believed in God, but she hoped that Edward, Pinako, the dog, and his mother were up there, living the afterlife up, and if Winry was up there, they'd look after Alphonse together.

Somehow the thought cheered her up a little.

Though she hoped that Winry was still alive. If only so Al wouldn't be so terribly alone.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Desperate and Winry ran into a problem as soon as they got off the train. They looked left, they looked right, they looked at each other, Winry holding her bag and Desperate hugging his stomach with one arm.

"Where do we go?" Desperate asked.

Winry sighed.

"I was going to ask you that."

Desperate frowned, his lower lip poking out just so.

"I'm sorry."

Winry furrowed here eyebrows, but smiled reassuringly.

"Don't worry, we'll think of something. Do you know where they might be?"

Desperate shook his head.

"That's okay. We'll find a place to stay first. Then we'll look for them."

She really didn't want to see Lust. Right then was a perfect opportunity to escape, to be honest. But the look in Desperate's eyes made her hesitate. Lust was his family. He needed Winry for automail maintenance. He was a sweet boy, and it wasn't fair to deprive him of two things he needed.

Pinako would've been disappointed in her if she abandoned him.

But she wished she could take him with her, wherever she'd end up going. But she could imagine what he'd be like if she took him away from his family. A sobbing mess, like he had been when Envy had vanished for that short amount of time.

Winry led the way to a vendor to get a map. Desperate grasped a handful of Winry's jacket. A small smile graced her lips.

She dug out her wallet when the newspapers on the shelf caught her eye.

_STATE ALCHEMISTS KILLED IN XENOTIME_.

Winry took the newspaper and unfolded it. She gasped.

On the left side of the page, there was a picture of Edward Elric.

_A small unit was deployed to the old gold mining town, Xenotime, to investigate a case of identity theft, but it quickly because a mysterious mystery of the death of Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist. _

"_I can't give any details, but Fullmetal, it seems, hadn't been in the best of health when he got there. Poison had gotten into Xenotime's water supply, he drank a lot of it, and it killed him." 2__nd__ Lieutenant Jean Havoc told the press. _

_Further information about the identity theft case, in which Fullmetal was impersonated, and the water contamination was not available to the press. But the mysteries of Xenotime didn't stop there. _

_Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes was gracious enough to answer a few questions. _

"_We had to run a few tests on Ed's body. Major Armstrong, the Strong Arm Alchemist, was helping me with that. . . . I left to make a phone call to Central regarding the case, and when I came back . . . Armstrong was dead and Ed's body was missing." _

_The investigation into Armstrong's murder and Fullmetal's missing corpse is still underway. _

The newspaper fell from Winry's hand.

The vendor snapped at her, but she barely heard him. She fumbled with her money, paid for the map, and stumbled away.

Ed was dead. Just like Grandma. Just like Den. Ed was dead. Where was Al? Al was as alone as she was now. Ed was dead. Ed was _dead_.

Winry collapsed onto a bench and cried.

She felt arms wrap around her – one flesh, one automail. It took her a moment to remember Ed wasn't the only one with an automail arm.

She buried her face into his shoulder. Desperate stroked her hair, his automail hand rubbing her back.

"What's wrong?"

Winry sniffed and tried to catch her breath.

"Remember when I mentioned Ed?"

"Yes."

Winry tightened her hold on Desperate, careful not to hurt him.

"The newspaper says he's dead."

She sobbed harder, knowing Edward would never be able to come and save her – and maybe Desperate too – from this horrible situation.

Desperate lifted her head so she could look him in the eye.

"I'm sorry, Winry. . . . Can I make it better?"

Winry sniffed. He really did look like Ed. Almost sounded like him, too.

But he didn't act like him.

She wiped her eyes and stood up. Desperate looked up at her, his eyes glimmering with concern. She took a deep breath.

She had to look after herself now. Herself and Desperate. It was just her and him right then. Like it was always Ed and Al. Ed always took care of Al, so she'd have to take care of Desperate for now. At least until she met up with Al.

Maybe he was in East HQ. Helping them find Ed's body.

"Let's just get to that inn, all right?"

~!#$%^&*()_+

Scar had read the newspaper. He knew that Fullmetal was dead.

From the picture, he knew Fullmetal had an automail arm. Hew knew what Fullmetal looked like. He knew Fullmetal had been nothing more than a child.

Fullmetal was a symbol of the military's corruption. Enlisting children of all things. AT the age of twelve, just so they can die at fifteen.

Fullmetal was also an alchemist, a sinner against God. But God could forgive children for their transgressions. They didn't know better. Even with Fullmetal nearing adulthood, the military still held a tight fist, and God would still forgive that boy.

So why was this copy of Fullmetal here? What had he ever done to deserve rejection from God's domain?

Who had made it their duty to try to bring him back, like his brother tried to bring _her_ back?

Scar watched as Fullmetal and the girl entered the inn . . . the same inn that sheltered the two who he learned were named Russell and Al.


	10. Chapter 10

Red Roses2: This is nine pages. I like how the first and last scene turned out.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. That belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.

!#$%^&*()_+~

Envy banged the front door open and waltzed inside. A sigh slipped past his lips, the thought of Desperate wrapping his arms around him already curling his mouth upward.

"Desperate! I'm back!" Envy called, climbing the red-carpeted stairs. He even slid his hand up the handrail, remembering how Desperate clinged to it as he got used to climbing up the stairs. His smirk widened into a grin. He could almost see Desperate's expression once he saw him.

"Leore went really well! Except for Flame getting in the way, but it's nothing we can't fix!"

. . . . Something was wrong. Desperate would be – slowly but surely – coming to meet him by now. He stood at the top of the stairs to minimize the risk of Desperate tripping on the stairs and hurting himself – he was still awfully unsteady on them.

"Desperate?"

Envy walked to Desperate's bedroom.

"Little brother?"

The bedroom door creaked open. Envy flicked the light switch –

And Desperate wasn't there.

Desperate was supposed to be curled up on the bed, hugging himself and trying to make the pain in his stomach area go away. Desperate was supposed to be _waiting_ for him!

Envy ran to the bedroom Winry was supposed to be barricaded in. Maybe something happened to his automail and she was fixing it . . . !

"Desperate!"

He banged the door open, but neither Desperate _nor_ Winry was in there.

Envy shook his head, not believing his eyes.

Where was he? Where was Desperate? _Where did that ugly human girl take him?_

"DESPERATE!"

Envy crashed through each and every room, screaming his name.

"WHERE ARE YOU!? DESPERATE!"

Not in his room, not Lust's or Gluttony's, or Dante's or the one bathroom, or the rooms downstairs.

"LITTLE BROTHER!"

He slammed doors, tore curtains, threw furniture against the walls, only dimly aware he had moved into the dining room.

Chuckling rang in his ears, making him freeze in thrashing a cabinet filled with china – Desperate was a lot like china: beautiful but fragile. Slowly, Envy turned towards Dante, eyes wide and twitching.

"Envy, you know better. Why are you deluding yourself like that pathetic child does?" she asked, bringing a teacup to her lips.

He snarled at her.

"_Where_ is _he_?" Envy hissed.

Dante shook her head.

"I decided to put him to good use. He and the girl went to East HQ to meet up with Pride and the others."

Envy gnashed his teeth.

"He doesn't even know where to start looking for them! What if that bitch takes him away!?"

Dante lifted her teacup.

"Then it's of no real loss to us. Desperate is quite useless, I dare say."

Envy pounded the table, screaming, the table splintering under his sheer might. Dante's saucer fell to the ground and shattered. Dante stared at the table for a moment, then looked at Envy, took in his fierce features twisted into undiluted anger.

"I'll make you pay!" he shrieked. "I'LL MAKE YOU PAY!"

He abandoned Dante and ran out of the house, back to the train station. He had to get there as soon as he could. He couldn't let the humans take Desperate away! They hadn't wanted him in the beginning, why should it be any different now? Desperate was _his_, damn it, _his_!

He failed to notice he was attracting attention, especially from a certain former student of Dante's.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Russell tripped over himself and ran into several different people on his way to the HQ building. Al struggled to keep up with him, but Russell ran harder and harder, his lungs screaming from the exertion.

He darted past the entry gate, only for the guard to grab him.

"Hey, authorized personnel only!" the guard said.

Russell scowled, dug out his pocket watch, and shoved it in the guard's face. The guard blinked at it.

Clang, clang, clang, and Al finally caught up with him.

"I'm with him," Al said.

The guard gave Al a smile.

"You mean he's with you. I recognize you from the last time Fullmetal was here." Russell and Al froze. Slowly, Russell lowered the watch. "You're helping the military find your brother's corpse, aren't you?" Al didn't say anything, only bowed his head. "S'long as this guy sticks with you, I'll let you both in, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Russell said, pocketing the watch.

They entered the building, but Russell's spirits could only be kept down for so long. He picked up the pace until he was running all over again, Al trying to match his pace.

Russell found Mustang's office without too much trouble and he threw the door open.

Fletcher turned around, surprised.

"Bright brother?"

"FLETCHER!"

Russell ran up to him, threw his arms around him, and squeezed him tightly. Fletcher squeaked, his eyes going wide.

"I missed you _so_ much!"

Russell pulled back and ruffled Fletcher's hair.

"How are you? Where'd Mustang take you? What happened? Are you hurt anywhere?"

Fletcher smiled.

"I'm okay," Fletcher answered, his voice a little fainter than Russell remembered. "I'm not hurt. Colonel took me to Leore, and . . . a lot happened." The light in Fletcher's eyes dimmed, but Russell blamed it on the room's lighting.

Russell enveloped him in another hug.

"I'm so glad you're okay!"

Fletcher peered at Al over Russell's shoulder. Al stood in the office doorway. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

"Brother, could you let go? The Fuhrer wasn't done talking."

Russell stared at him for a moment, then paid attention to his surroundings. Lieutenants Hawkeye, Havoc, and Breda, Warrant Officer Falman, Master Sergeant Fuery, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, Colonel Mustang, and Fuhrer King Bradley all stood around them, staring. Fuhrer Bradley gave a friendly smile.

"It's all right. It's completely understandable. Colonel Mustang should have given _all_ of us more information about his and your brother's whereabouts."

Russell turned a bright pink and stood up properly.

"My apologies," he muttered.

"As I was saying, I hereby approve of Fletcher Trigham's state alchemist name, the Eden Alchemist."

"Thank you, Fuhrer," Mustang said. Fletcher bowed.

"Oh, and soon we'll have to give you a state name, Mr. Trigham."

"Yes, sir." Russell replied, still embarrassed.

"Well, good day to you all," the Fuhrer said. He left the office, patting Al's shoulder on the way out.

As soon as Russell was sure the Fuhrer wasn't coming back, he latched onto Fletcher again.

"Russell!"

~!#$%^&*()_+

Al gasped as Hughes and Hawkeye told him the news.

"_What_!?"

Winry was _missing_? And Pinako was _dead_?

Hawkeye touched his leather hand.

"I'm sorry, Alphonse. We'll do everything we can to find her," she said.

Al bowed his head.

"Where could she be?" he asked, his voice devoid of hope.

Hughes's eyes iced with determination.

"We'll find her, Al. Don't worry."

~!#$%^&*()_+

Sloth didn't blink as Envy threw a bust across the room, almost hitting her in the face. It shattered against the wall.

"If he's not here, where is he!?" Envy snarled.

Sloth stood up calmly.

"We'll have Gluttony sniff him out."

Envy glared at her.

"If anything has happened to him, you're all going to pay for it!"

The door clicked behind him.

"Envy, what are you doing here?" Pride asked.

Sloth answered before Envy could open his mouth.

"Dante sent Desperate and the Rockbell girl here. They should have arrived by now. They're probably wandering around looking for Lust and Gluttony."

"Ah. We can't let them be recognized. Especially now that Hawkeye has filed a missing person's report."

Envy scowled.

"So how are we supposed to fine them?!"

Pride crossed the room to his desk.

"Between you, Lust, Gluttony, and Sloth, I'm sure you'll manage. Bring Desperate here, and I'll make arrangements for his stay here."

"Fine!" Envy snapped. "Sloth! Let's go!"

Sloth followed Envy out, and she closed the door behind them. Pride settled himself into his chair, wondering what possessed Dante to send Desperate to them. The only thing it achieved was pissing Envy off.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Al trailed behind Russell and Fletcher as Fletcher talked to Russell, asking about what he had been doing with Al. Fletcher kept glancing back at him, like he wanted to say something to him but changed his mind.

Al couldn't believe Winry was missing. Winry was all he had now. He'd never consider the Trighams as real friends. He was only on a thinly spread companionship with Russell. . . . He didn't want to forgive Fletcher.

Russell opened the front door to the inn, and he came face-to-face with a blonde girl with blue eyes.

"Oh, sorry," she said.

"No problem," Russell said, moving to the side.

Al gasped.

"Winry!?"

The girl looked at him, her eyes widening in recognition.

"AL!"

"What are you doing here!? Hawkeye and Hughes said you were missing!"

Winry faltered, her eyes hardened, and she took a deep breath.

"I can't really explain right now. But I kind of have to be with Desperate everywhere he goes. Only problem with that is, we have no idea where we're going."

"Who's Desperate?"

Movement caught Al's eye. Someone was hiding behind Winry.

Winry smiled and stepped away, but the person gripped her shoulder and bend his head to he could hide his face behind Winry. Winry ran a hand through the person's bangs. Al gasped at the familiar facial structure.

"It's okay. This is my friend Al. He won't hurt you."

The person lifted his eyes – violet eyes. But aside from that, he looked just like Edward.

He shrunk behind Winry, but his eyes went from Al, to Russell – whose eyes were wider than they ever had been before – and to Fletcher, whose face was drained of all blood.

"H-hello," he said.

Winry clasped his hand.

"Desperate, this is Al, and . . . who are you two?"

"Russell." Russell forced out. He glanced at his little brother, then added, "And Fletcher. Trigham."

"Nice to meet you," Winry said.

Desperate's eyes lit up, and he leaned around Winry to get a better look at Fletcher. Fletcher stepped backwards. Those violet eyes shone at him, glinting with a little familiarity and a lot of confusion.

"I – I know you. . . ." Desperate said.

Fletcher stepped back, his mouth a trembling line.

"Really?" Winry asked.

Desperate tilted his head to the side, trying to remember.

Fletcher stared at him, the memories of the human transmutation flashing through his mind. This – this wasn't possible. This just wasn't – possible.

"You had blood all over your front. . . . The room . . . smelled strange. . . . Everything hurt. . . . . You were . . . crying about . . . being sorry. . . . ."

Fletcher's eyes widened, and he stopped his retreat.

There wasn't any possible way he could know that.

Unless he really was.

Winry and Russell looked from Desperate to Fletcher, confused. Al realized what this person in front of them must be.

A homunculus. A man-made human.

A human brought back from the dead.

Desperate took a step toward Fletcher, moving far enough away from Winry for Fletcher to see the automail arm. All the air disappeared from Fletcher's lungs.

There was no denying it. There was just no way this person could look so much like Edward, know those things, AND have automail limbs, without being Edward.

"So . . . what went wrong?"

Fletcher's brain froze. This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't.

"What about me didn't hurt out right?"

Dear God.

Fletcher watched Desperate try to smile, but he could see the pain and sadness, and it _was_ Ed but _couldn't_ be.

"I – I didn't mean to. . . ."

Desperate let out a snort.

"Didn't mean to what?"

Fletcher's shoulders sagged.

"To do this to you."

Desperate stared blankly for a moment, then smiled, hugging his sides.

"It's not that bad."

Fletcher's knees felt weak. Tears weld in his eyes, and before he could stop it he was bawling. He felt a flesh arm and a cool metal arm surround him.

"It's okay. I'm much better now."

What had Fletcher done?


	11. Chapter 11

Red Roses2: 12 pages. Awesome.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. That belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.

!#$%^&*()_+~

Al stared at Desperate as the waitress poured more tea into Winry's, Fletcher's, and Russell's glasses. Desperate's water glass sat untouched, as was Al's. Desperate played with his hair, smiling weakly, a small glint of longing flashing in his purple eyes whenever he glanced at the sidewalk when someone walked by. Then the glint would be replaced with disappointment and . . . Al couldn't figure out what it was before Desperate hid it.

This was a homunculus. But what did this mean? The definition of a homunculus was "a man-made human", but could it be a human back from the dead? This Desperate didn't act much like Ed, but who knew the damage the transmutation caused?

Desperate obviously didn't recognize Russell of Al, but he knew Fletcher on sight. Did that mean Ed's memories were damaged, resulting in a seemingly different personality? If that was the case, then the real Ed was still in there.

Al just had to dig it out.

Russell was telling Winry something or other, and Fletcher sat awkwardly next to Desperate, looking like he wanted to say something but afraid of the answer.

"Desperate, why do you keep looking at the street?" Al asked.

Desperate stiffened, then tried to widen his smile.

"Just in case Brother shows up. . . ."

Winry tensed but pretended otherwise.

"Didn't that woman say he was in Leore?" she said.

Now why was Fletcher tensing?

Desperate grimaced.

"I don't like her. She says mean things and makes Brother angry."

"That doesn't change the fact that it's unlikely."

Desperate frowned, looking dejected.

"Of course," she added quickly, "that doesn't mean we won't find your big sister. She's here somewhere, isn't she?"

"Yeah. . . ."

Desperate bowed his head. Winry sighed.

"You have a brother and sister?" Al asked. Did that mean there were more homunculi?

Desperate nodded.

"Are you an older brother?"

Russell furrowed his eyebrows, his attention now solely on Al. Desperate looked at Al for a moment, then smiled at him pityingly.

"Of course not, silly. I'm too small and fragile to be the big brother."

. . . . Well. The real Ed certainly wouldn't say that. But the height thing was a reaction caused by "painful" memories in Ed's past. So maybe . . . .

"What's this brother like?"

Russell raised an eyebrow at Al, but Desperate's smile became genuine.

"Brother's great. He even let Winry come back home with us!"

"Let me. Right." Winry muttered, laughing nervously. "He certainly looks after you at any rate. _So_, Al, what have you been doing?"

"Just following Russell around. Does your brother have a name, Desperate?"

Please let his memory just be screwed up. Please let him at least get the name right.

"His name is Envy."

Al's helmet creaked as he fixed his sights solely on Desperate.

"And Sister's is Lust." Desperate turned his head in Winry's direction. "When will we go find her?"

Winry waved her hand dismissively.

"Don't worry, we'll find her. Just be patient."

Russell's eyebrow climbed farther up his forehead.

"_Envy_ and _Lust_? Who the hell names their kids that?"

Fletcher elbowed Russell in the side. Russell protested, but Fletcher glared him into submission. Desperate gave Russell a confused look.

"What do you mean?"

Russell stared blankly for a moment.

"What do I mean by what?"

"What you said. 'Who names their kids that.' What do you mean?"

Russell stared at him a while longer.

"Well, you know. When people have kids, they give them names. You get your name from your parents."

Desperate tilted his head to the side.

"Par . . . ents? What's a – parent?"

Winry, Russell, and Fletcher all stared at him with wide eyes. Al's armor creaked.

"You . . . don't know?" Fletcher said.

Desperate shook his head.

"Brother named me, and he's my brother. Can a brother be a parent?"

"Well," Winry said. "A brother _can_ be a parent."

"But _your_ brother can't be _your_ parent. He would have to be someone else's." Russell added.

"A parent is an adult that takes care of you," Fletcher said softly. "And when your parents aren't able to, your big brother does for them."

Something flared up in Al's soul, but he did his best to quell it. IT wasn't in his best interest to lash out at Fletcher right then. He had bigger objectives to achieve.

Desperate hummed thoughtfully.

"I'll . . . have to ask Brother if we have parents. I don't think we do, though. . . ."

"W-why is your brother in Leore?" Fletcher asked.

Desperate opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it.

"I don't know," he said, his shoulders drooping. Despair crawled into his eyes, and his mouth trembled. "I don't even know why Lust is here. . . ." Desperate tugged at Winry's sleeve. "What if they're in trouble? What if they need help? I have to find them! I have to! I have to!"

Winry grabbed Desperate by the shoulders and shook him once.

"Your brother and sister are fine. They'd kill anyone who bothered to get in their way. All right?" Winry said, a slight edge to her voice.

Fletcher froze, Russell's eyes widened, and Al's armor creaked in surprise. Desperate looked distressed and confused.

"What are you talking about?" Desperate asked.

Winry let go of Desperate's shoulders and returned to her glass.

"Never you mind." Winry's eyes unfocused and her frown deepend. "Nothing anyone can do even if you knew."

Desperate's mood worsened, and he looked downright distraught.

Russell, Fletcher, and Al all shared a look.

"Desperate, why don't we go back to the hotel? To brainstorm about where your sister might be." Al said, standing up, the chair screeching behind him and his armor clanking. "Winry, Fletcher, and Russell will catch up."

Desperate hesitated, but Al could see that the possibility of finding his family overrode any attachments he had to Winry. Desperate followed Al away from the restaurant. . . .

But not in the direction of the hotel.

Clang, clang, clang, clang, as Al walked.

Shuff, shuff, shuff, shuff, as Desperate dragged his feet.

Clang, clang, clang, clang.

Shuff, shuff, shuff, shuff.

Clang, clang, clang, clang.

Shuff, shuff, shuff, shuff.

Clang, clang, clang –

"If you don't have parents, then how do you know if your brother and sister are really related to you?" Al asked.

Desperate looked at him, confusion sparking in those purple eyes. He looked absolutely pitiful.

"Of course he's my brother. What else would he be?"

"A liar?"

The shuffs stopped. Al halted and turned to look at Desperate. Desperate's lip trembled, and his eyebrows furrowed. His eyes hardened, despite the tears that shined in the corners.

"What makes you say that?" Desperate said . . . no, demanded. Like Ed would. It _was_ Ed! Only Ed would get that worked up over a brother!

"You don't remember anything, right? So what's to keep someone from taking advantage of that?"

"Someone like you?" Desperate shouted.

Uh oh.

"No! _Not_ like me! Like Envy!"

Desperate gnashed his teeth, his eyes flickering gold.

His eyes flickered _gold_ as he snarled at Al.

"Don't _ever_ talk about my brother that way! Bastard!"

Al gasped as the purple and gold fought for his irises, but the expression never changed. No, this was wrong. Ed's mind had to have been completely discarded for this to happen. Fletcher screwed up the transmutation, but Ed's soul was in there, and he could fix him – Al could fix him!

Al lunged for Desperate, and Desperate backed away, his shoulders just escaping Al's leather fingers.

"I can help you remember! I can help you remember your real brother!"

"Stay away from me! _Envy_ is my brother! My _only_ brothere!"

Desperate winced, probably because of his stomach pain – and Al stole the chance.

He tackled Desperate, but before he could do more than touch his shoulders, Desperate screamed. Not a battle cry, not a "help, I'm being attacked" scream, but a spine-chilling, blood-curdling, hair-curling shriek. A screech that burned lungs until they burst, that shattered windows, that could be heard all the way in Xenotime.

It was a scream of unimaginable pain, and Al had no idea of how to make it stop. He let go of Desperate, but the homunculus kept shrieking. Desperate collapsed and writhed on the ground. Al didn't know how long he'd scream but the horrifying sound echoed in his armor and reverberated against his blood seal. Al gasped as he felt the noise more than any normal being ever could.

And he screamed too.

The world became white as he stumbled backward. The farther he moved, the more he could see, and the less Desperate screamed. Once he came to the end of the street, Al saw the street more clearly than ever before . . . as though he were looking at it through Desperate's eyes. The feeling dissipated as Desperate curled into a ball on the sidewalk and sobbed, Al realizing the vague physical feeling he was trying to hold onto was the wet sensation of tears rolling down Desperate's face.

Al stood, immobile, just watching him cry, huddled up like a kitten . . . a poor wet kitten without a home and missing its only family. And he basically kicked the fragile thing, like an inconsiderate businessman only concerned with reaching his next destination.

Al lifted his head as the Trighams and Winry ran into view. Winry's eyes widened.

"Desperate!"

She ran over to him and gently touched him, but he flinched and sobbed harder.

"I want Big Brother!" Desperate wailed. "Where's my big brother? I need my brother! I need him!"

Russell ran over to Al, Fletcher hesitating to follow.

"What happened?" Russell asked.

Al couldn't tear his eyes away from Winry and Desperate. Winry tried to coax him into her arms, but he shook his head, only crying.

"I – I accidentally hurt him," he admitted.

Russell gave him a look – as though he were a disapproving parent – but Fletcher frowned, looking guilty, understanding, and pitying all at once.

"How'd you manage that?" Russell said.

Al watched Desperate curl into a tighter ball, hugging his stomach.

"I'm . . . not sure."

He couldn't do it again, though. That was for sure.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Gluttony yelped in surprise when the scream sliced through the air and shattered the window beside him. Glass cascaded upon him, cutting his skin. Lust brushed some off, her frown deepening. Envy's eyes widened as the sound beat against his ear drums. Sloth gazed around, trying to locate the source of the sound.

Envy gritted his teeth as he spoke.

"That's _Desperate's_ voice."

Sloth raised an eyebrow.

"Does he scream like that often?"

Lust shook her head.

"No. He doesn't talk about a whisper, mostly."

"So how do you know it's him?" Sloth demanded.

A vein throbbed in Envy's forehead, his fists clenched, and he ran ahead.

"Envy!" Sloth snapped.

"Wait!" Lust called, running after him, Gluttony at her heels.

Sloth followed at a leisurely pace. She could care less about the newest homunculus.

The humans could find and abuse him for all she cared.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Havoc slowed the car to a stop as the light turned red. He chewed on his cigarette and tapped his index fingers on the wheel. Maria Ross sat in the passenger's seat, her hands folded in her lap. She kept her eyes straight ahead, but they were unfocused. Bloch and Hughes sat in the back, Bloch looking out the window. Hughes's head was bowed, and Havoc couldn't see his expression from the rearview mirror. The light turned green, and Havoc put on the gas.

"Anyone know exactly why Russell called us?" Havoc asked.

Maria glanced at him.

"His call was after several concerned ones from citizens. The source of them was an almost unearthly scream. Rumor says it's the cause of the spontaneous window breaks. HE said he knew who it was and that we should meet him at the hotel he and Al have been staying at," she answered.

"So why did Fletcher insist on Colonel Mustang coming along?" Block asked as the car with Hawkeye and Mustang caught up with them.

Maria shrugged.

Havoc raised an eyebrow as he recognized the person on the sidewalk. He pulled over and slowed to a stop. He rolled the window down and leaned out.

"Russell?"

Hughes looked up and leaned forward until he was essentially using Havoc and the driver's seat to support his weight. Hawkeye stopped her car behind Havoc's.

Russell panted and rested a hand on Havoc's car.

"We can't get him to move, and he refuses to let us touch him. But I think he really needs some medical help. I didn't know who else to call. . . ." Russell explained.

The military personnel got out of the car, and Russell led them down the sidewalk.

"Who is it?" Hughes asked.

"He says his name is Desperate, and he's looking for his older sister here. But . . . well, Winry will explain it." Russell replied.

Hawkeye grabbed Russell's shoulder, forcing him to look at her.

"Winry!? As in Winry Rockbell!?" Hawkeye demanded.

"Like I said, you can talk to her about everything. But we kind of have to hurry. Fletcher's uneasy, and none of us know what exactly happened."

Hawkeye quickened her pace, and soon they came to the scene of the incident.

The sidewalk was covered in glass fragments that crunched beneath their feet. Al stood off to the side, almost as though he was hiding behind the shop sign. Fletcher hovered over Winry's shoulder, wringing his overall strap and worrying his lip. Winry knelt next to a huddled up figure clad in skin-tight black. Hughes and Mustang froze at the sight of the tattoo smack-dab in the middle of the small of his back.

A serpent eating its tail, forming a circle. An ouroboros. The last time they had seen that was back in Xenotime, on the corpse of Edward Elric.

Russell knelt next to the huddled figure.

"Desperate?"

The figure lifted its head, its blond hair flaling into view, but the military couldn't see its eyes from that angle.

"I brought some people who can help you. Will you let them?" Russell said.

The figure lowered its head and mumbled something. Russell raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry, didn't catch that."

"He said no alchemy," Winry translated. "He keeps saying no more alchemy."

Russell nodded, then stood up.

"Guess that's as good an invitation as any," he said, shooting a look at the others.

Hawkeye stepped next to Winry and clapped a hand on her shoulder. Havoc flicked his cigarette to the ground and stomped on it before walking to Desperate. He knelt down and gently pressed a hand to Desperate's back.

"My name's Lieutenant Jean Havoc. I'm going to pick you up, okay? I promise to be gentle."

Slowly, Desperate turned just enough so he could see Havoc, and Havoc could see Desperate's face.

Had Havoc not disposed of his cigarette, it would have fallen as his jaw dropped. It took him a moment to realize the eyes were not gold, but bright violet with gold lining the irises.

But Havoc swore to God that he was looking at the ghost of Edward Elric.

"You sure your name is Desperate?" Havoc blurted out.

"Yes." Said in a pained, breathy voice.

Havoc took a deep breath, then gathered the boy into his arms. Desperate's breath hitched.

"Don't worry, I've gotcha."

Havoc got to his feet and smiled confidently at the boy. He once carried Fullmetal this way, when he had fallen asleep in the car after a particularly taxing mission. Al would have done it, but they had agreed Havoc would do it more gently. Back then, Al still had problems controlling how roughly he handled living things. Fullmetal had been by no means light, but he had expected him to weigh more. It had been nice, to see the side that reminded him that Fullmetal was still a kid. This kid weighed less than Fullmetal did, and whereas Fullmetal had been asleep, this kid was wide awake and afraid.

"I'm going to carry you to the car, and then we'll take you to the hospital. Okay?"

Desperate nodded, but his eyes showed just how wary he was of Havoc. Havoc slowly carried him to the car, followed by Bloch.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Fletcher screamed as a lithe figure clad in the black jumped from the roof and landed amongst them, his feet creating a crater. Envy snarled at Fletcher, recognizing him instantly. Then his eyes landed on Winry.

"Where is he!?" Envy shouted. "WHERE IS DESPERATE!?"

"YOU!" Mustang yelled, prepping for a snap.

Lust jumped down from the roof and restrained Envy, her razor sharp fingers pressed against his neck.

"Calm down," she said. She looked at Winry. "Why aren't you with him?"

Winry glared at them defiantly and crossed her arms.

"Why'd your _leader_ send us out here in the first place, without sufficient instructions?" she challenged.

Lust narrowed her eyes and Envy gritted his teeth, but then the tension decreased and Lust released Envy.

"She has a point." Lust said.

Envy growled.

"So where is he?"

Winry closed her eyes, turned her head away, and grunted. Envy snarled.

"You can't harm her or kill her. She's needed." Lust reminded him.

"We'll find him a new mechanic!" Envy shouted.

Winry opened her eyes.

"And what will you tell him if I'm dead? 'Oh, sorry you don't have a friend anymore that will look after you when we're not around even when that old lady's being a manipulative bitch, we decided to dispose of her'?"

Envy clenched his fists, but them his shoulders slumped and he pressed his palm to his forehead.

Mustand stepped forward, Fletcher hiding behind him.

"Who _are_ you?!? Why did you massacre those children in Leore!?" Mustang shouted.

All but Envy, Lust, and Fletcher gasped.

Envy sidled a glare at Mustang, but it was more tired than before.

"The plan had been to get you and the Trigham brat to create a Philosopher's Stone so you could 'restore Fullmetal's brain' after I convinced you two that the brat's attempt at human transmutation actually worked. The murdered were a tool. Like the Ishbal Rebellion was." Hughes's, Mustang's, and Hawkeye's eyes widened. "But I lost my temper, which made it completely pointless." Envy shrugged.

Lust narrowed her eyes at him.

"You're an idiot." Lust deadpanned.

Envy glared at her.

"The brat's the one who transmuted Desperate's insides and created Desperate in the first place! What was I supposed to do?" Envy placed his hands on his hips. "But screw the Stone. I'm not working on it anymore."

Lust's eyes widened as Envy walked away.

What do you mean?"

Envy looked back at her.

"That bitch I call I mother needs to pay for what she's done."

Lust said nothing in response.

Mustang cocked a gun and pointed it at Envy.

"You're not getting away that easily. You're under arrest."

Envy raised an eyebrow.

"Oh really? And pray tell how you will capture someone who is invincible? Or do you not remember our last encounter?"

Mustang narrowed his eyes.

"Come in for questioning and a trail, and we'll tell you where Desperate is."

Envy stayed still for a moment, then sighed and held his hands out, fists balled, knuckles up, thumbs and index fingers pressed against each other. Maria clamped handcuffs onto his wrists.

~!#$%^&*()_+

Block ended up being the one who had to go back for the others. Desperate refused to let go of Havoc. So Havoc sat, propped up in the hospital bed with Desperate's legs draped across his lap and his head pressed against his chest. The only explanation Havoc received was "you remind me of my big brother." Havoc guessed that was a good thing.


End file.
